


Brand New World

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-01-29 09:39:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 83,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12628167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: Jackson and April were high school sweethearts, keeping their relationship a secret from their families. They planned a future together until April got pregnant - unbeknownst to Jackson - and left town once she started to show, for the greater good.Now, their son is six years old. April created a life for the two of them that she is proud of. Everything is going smoothly until famous football player Jackson comes back into the picture.How will their lives play out?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!! this is my new project for National Novel Writing Month. the challenge is to finish it all by november 30. think i can do it?!

_ SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF INTERSTATE I-90 WEST, 6 YEARS AGO _

What people don’t tell you is that babies come with the answers. You spend the latter half of your pregnancy worrying, obsessing, jumping to the worst-case scenario. But when that baby comes out and looks into your eyes, they tell you who you are. 

Right now, I have all the answers. Sitting in the back of a Greyhound bus in the middle of the interstate, blue and red ambulance lights flashing from outside, nothing is right. Yet somehow, everything is. 

At six months along, babies start dreaming. Inside me, my son had thoughts and emotions. Before he came into this world, he was a person. A person who was mine only, a life I kept hidden from everyone who knew me, everyone who loved me. 

And at eight months along, I packed what I could in a backpack, bought a bus ticket, and left. Just the two of us, he and I, in the backseat of a Greyhound bus headed far away from everything I’d ever known. Everything he would never know. 

He’ll never see the scornful looks from my family or the members of my church. He’ll never hear the whispers behind our backs. He’ll never think he’s anything less than a miracle, and he will always know how much I love him. 

But he will also never know the loving arms of his father as I knew them. 

I look down into my newborn son’s face now, stroking his cheek with the pad of my pointer finger. He is easily the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. All babies are beautiful, but he is mine and Jackson’s beautiful. And that is something special. 

The thought that crosses my mind as I look at him is: I’m at the beginning of my journey, the one that means something. The one that will define me. But I know this journey, the one my son started, began a long time ago. I know, because I was there. And somebody else was there, too. Somebody really good.

I press a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling a tear slide down my cheek. “Hi, little angel,” I whisper, voice soft so only he can hear. “I’m your mom.” 

…

_ MOLINE, OHIO - 7 YEARS AGO _

I’m a cheerleader. Jackson is the star quarterback of our high school team, the Hawks, and I’m the tiniest on my team, which means I’m the flyer. 

Things are perfect between us, and they have been for a long time. We were best friends our freshmen and sophomore years of high school, started dating early in our junior year. We lost our virginities to each other the August before senior year started. 

Of course, my family knows nothing about this. They don’t even think I look at boys, let alone have a boyfriend. Let alone get into bed with a boy. 

But Jackson isn’t just any boy. I’m in love; I feel more for him than I’ve ever felt for anything in my life preceding. He means the world to me - he  _ is _ my world.

The beginning of our senior year was picturesque. The football games are something out of a teen movie. All the students, loud in the stands. Cheerleaders on the track, shouting at the top of our lungs. We’re all here for the same reason: to watch my boyfriend beat the pants off our rival school.

My cheeks are flushed as I watch him sprint across the field, football cradled under his arm as he keeps it safe from opponents rushing by. 

“Ready? Okay!” my squad shouts, then we all shake our pompoms. “We’ve got a team that’s backed by pride, there must be some Hawks on our side! Stand up and yell for victory tonight, come on Hawks, fight, fight, fight!” 

After we’re done with the cheer, we all hoop and holler and kick our legs high in the air as the noise from the audience gets louder behind us. 

I keep my eyes on Jackson, who’s almost the end-zone before he gets tackled. He’s at the bottom of a three-person pile, and I can’t help but stand on my tiptoes, wearing a concerned expression. 

I press my pompoms together and wait for him to get up, and he eventually does. I let out a long breath as I watch the ref pull him to his feet. They exchange words, Jackson shakes his head, but the ref is adamant as he walks him to the sideline. 

When he reaches the bench, I glance over my shoulder at my friends on the squad, Lexie and Teddy, and they urge me on. They’re the only two people in this world I’ve ever talked to about mine and Jackson’s relationship. 

I trot over to the bench, where Jackson has one leg elevated with an ice pack on his knee, slugging down so much water that his Adam’s apple bobs dramatically.

“Are you okay?” I ask, leaning forward with my hands on the backrest. 

He opens his eyes and stops drinking when he sees me. “Baby,” he says. “Hey. Yeah, I’m fine. I should still be out there, stupid ref made me sit out.” 

“You shouldn’t push yourself if you’re hurt,” I say. 

“I’m fine,” he says, then beckons me forward with one finger. “C’mere.”

“What?”

“Just come here. You have something on your face.” 

“What?” I say. “Do I, really?” 

“Come here and I’ll get it,” he says, and I lean towards him. He holds my chin with his thumb and pointer finger, then kisses me quickly. “Got it.”

“Jackson,” I say, eyes wide. “My sister’s in the bleachers.” 

“She’s with the band, we’re fine,” he says. “It’s not illegal for me to kiss my girl. I’m hurt. A kiss makes everything better.” 

I blush, about to say something in response when I hear my name being called from the track. 

“Gotta go,” I say, then turn to leave. 

He grabs me by the wrist before I can get far, though. “Meet me after,” he says. “In the school, by the locker rooms. Just real quick.” 

I bite my lower lip, raising my eyebrows desperately. “Real quick,” I say. 

“Promise,” he says. 

“Okay,” I say, then he lets go. I run back to join the squad, fluffing my pompoms as I go. 

When the game is over, I tell my sister, Kimmie, that I forgot something inside the school and will meet her in the parking lot. I walk inside, tennis shoes squeaking against the tile floor, as I make my way towards the gym where the locker rooms are.

Before I get there, though, I feel arms around my waist that lift me into the air. I squeal with delight, bending my legs and holding onto Jackson’s wrists as he spins and deposits me with my back resting against a locker. 

“Got you,” he murmurs, his face nearing mine.

“You scared me,” I say. 

Our foreheads rest against each other and I can smell the sweat on him, a scent I’m very used to. I can still see it in beads on his forehead, but dry everywhere else on his face as he gets even closer to me. 

“I couldn’t let you leave without kissing you,” he says. 

“I know,” I say, looping my arms around his neck and touching the tip of my nose to his. “I always know why you wanna get me alone.”

He holds my hips in his hands and smiles, nudging my nose a bit as our lips barely touch. 

“How’s your knee?” I ask. 

“Forget about my knee,” he says, then kisses me. 

I smile against his lips and breathe deeply, melding my mouth against his as he moves. His hands trail higher, up to rest around my ribcage where he squeezes softly. 

“You taste like cherry,” he says. 

“Lip gloss,” I say, giggling. “You’re gonna be wearing it after this.” 

He smirks. “Small price to pay.” 

He situates his hand at the base of my skull and runs his fingers through my hair, messing up the perfectly-done curls. With my eyes closed, I run my tongue along the seam of his lips and he parts them for me, welcoming it inside. He touches it with his own and sends a shock up my spine, making me shudder. We’ve been kissing like this for plenty of months, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way he makes me feel. 

“Mm…” I moan, as he tugs my hips flush against his. “I have to… I have to go.” 

“No…” he groans.

“My sister,” I say, pulling away and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “If I don’t meet her, she’s gonna call the police or something equally crazy.” I bat my eyelashes. “But I’ll try to sneak out tomorrow. Meet at your house? We can hang out for the afternoon?” 

He smiles, winding his arms around me again to squeeze two handfuls of my butt. “Sounds perfect,” he says. 

I twirl away after giving him one last, chaste kiss. “I love you,” I say, waving as I walk backwards out of the hallway. “You played awesome today.” 

“I love you more,” he calls after me, leaning with his shoulder against the lockers. “Couldn’t have done it without you cheering for me.” 

I skip to the parking lot with a big, goofy grin plastered on my face, a blush on my cheeks that Jackson always gives me. I make it to the car, which I can see Kimmie leaning against, and unlock it with the key-fob. 

“Took you long enough,” she grumbles. “Where were you? I looked all over.” 

“I left something in the locker room,” I say, sliding into the driver’s seat. 

She eyes me as she sits down and buckles in. “What?” 

I look at myself, not carrying anything except the small purse I always have slung across my chest. “My Chapstick,” I cover quickly, patting the bag. 

Kimmie gives me another suspicious look, but doesn’t push. 

We get home and find all the lights off in the house, our family having already gone to bed. I expected as much, and we don’t speak as we walk inside and head to our different rooms. My eyes drift over the religious memorabilia lining the walls, substituting where, in a normal home, school pictures from years’ past would be. But not in our house. In our house, along the walls in the hallway are crucifixes, portraits of Jesus, and cross-stitched verses. 

All thanks to my mother, of course. My father is a pastor. My mother practically runs our church. I was raised extremely devout, but all that changed when I met Jackson. Loving him turned me into someone my parents could never begin to understand. 

When we go off to college, everything will be different. We won’t have to hide. We can just be us, out in the open, without worrying what kind of repercussions will come back and bite us. I won’t have to think about my parents and the crazy rules they’ve implemented. 

If they had their way, I wouldn’t be kissing anyone until I turn 25. 

They hate the thought of their girls as women. They don’t want us acting on our growing sexual urges; we’ve always been taught that those feelings are a sin. I spent such a long time believing them that it took years with Jackson to help me understand that I’m human and the way my body feels is natural. And it’s okay. 

I smile to myself now, thinking about him. 

I’m up first in the morning, mostly because I’m anxious to get out of the house. Spending weekends at home is never a good idea, because it involves a lot of church and a lot of socializing with church people. 

“Morning, mama,” I say, coming down the stairs already dressed. I have a bag slung over my shoulder to prop up my lie that I have cheer practice all day. 

“Good morning, April,” she says, already working in the kitchen. I can tell she’s making something, but I can’t see what. Undoubtedly something to bring to her bible group.

“We won the game last night,” I say cheerfully, hitching my bag higher. 

“That’s nice.” 

“I have cheer practice until dinnertime,” I say, a bit ashamed that I don’t feel guilty lying anymore. I did, at first. Way back in the beginning, when Jackson and I started dating. But now, it’s grown to be so commonplace. I can’t see him if I don’t lie. And not seeing him isn’t an option. “May I take my car to school?” 

She looks up from what she’s stirring, eyes flitting to my bag. “I suppose,” she says. 

My parents like the idea of organized sports. They think being a part of them teaches us to think of others before ourselves. When my sisters and I were little, they put us in every sport they could to see what stuck. I failed at soccer, basketball, swimming and tennis until they finally caved and put me in something where no hand-eye coordination was required. They never let me wear all the makeup that cheer requires, but I sneak it in my bag and put it on at school when I need to. 

They never come to games. They hate the atmosphere, so they’re none the wiser. 

“Thank you, mama,” I say, walking around the island to drop a kiss on her cheek. 

“If I don’t see you, be ready for church tomorrow morning,” she says, not looking up from her mixture. “You need to be there, and we won’t wait for you.” 

“Yes, mama.” 

“Good girl.” 

I keep my head ducked low as I walk out the front door and towards the car, dumping the empty bag into the passenger’s seat. When I look up, I see that my mother is watching me from the kitchen window with an unfeeling expression on her face. I raise my hand in a wave, and she nods curtly. 

When I’m finally out of my neighborhood, I let out a sigh of relief. It doesn’t take me long to drive to Jackson’s house, where I notice his car is the only one in the driveway. His mom is gone on business a lot, so it isn’t surprising. When I’m not here, he’s alone most of the time.

It’s a crisp early-November morning, and I’m only wearing leggings and a gray sweatshirt, so I hurry to the door and use my key to open it. Jackson’s mom doesn’t know I have one, but he had it made for me almost as soon as we started dating. 

It’s early and the house is quiet, so my best guess is he’s still asleep. But before I go up to his room to check, I meander into the kitchen and pick an apple out of the fruit bowl, taking a few bites as I walk through the house. 

I realize I don’t need to go up to his room though, because as I follow the sound of the TV, I find him asleep on the couch, flat on his back. I smile to myself, kick my shoes off, set my apple down, and make my way over. 

As gently as I can, I crawl overtop of him so my body completely overlaps his. He stirs, so I stroke his face with mine tucked into his neck, whispering, “Just me.” 

He makes a low sound in his throat, stretching as he wakes up. He tightens his arms around me, one around my ribcage with his hand on my shoulder blade, and the other sneaking lower to rest on my butt. I smile softly, pressing my face further into his neck and breathing in. He smells like warmth and sleep. 

“Why’d you sleep on the couch?” I ask, nuzzling my nose against his skin.

He hugs me tight. “I was watching TV.”

“Were you lonely?” 

I hear him smile. “I’m always lonely when you’re not here.” 

“My mom thinks I’m at cheer right now,” I say. 

“Sinner.” 

“Shush.” 

He squeezes my butt and kisses the side of my face, what he can reach. My eyelids are heavy as I’ve grown so comfortable, ready to fall back to sleep stretched out over him. 

“I’m sorry you have to lie,” he says. 

I don’t open my eyes when I answer, “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” 

“But you shouldn’t have to be.” I make a small sound, shrugging a little bit as he trails a hand along the strip of skin on the small of my back. “I just wanna tell people about us, Peach.” 

I tighten my arm around his shoulder. We have this conversation frequently. It’s not easy for him to wrap his head around. 

“I know,” I say. “But my parents are crazy, baby. It’ll all be different once we go to college and get far away from here. I promise. It’ll be different, it’ll be so much better.” 

He sighs, pressing an absentminded kiss to my temple. “I want all that now,” he says. 

“I know,” I say. “Me, too. But we just can’t.” 

“Why is it such a crime for me to love you?” 

My heart swells. No one knows Jackson like this, the way I know him. No one knows how soft-hearted he really is, or how devoted he is to those he loves. I want more people to know about us, too, just so they could get a glimpse of our beautiful relationship. But my parents would never understand. If I told them, I’d be banned from ever leaving my room again, no less seeing him. Everything would be ruined. 

And that is something I refuse to let happen to us. 

“I don’t know, baby,” I say, stroking his face. “But it won’t always be like this.” 

He hugs me again and sighs, and I close my eyes for a second time. I fall back to sleep lying on top of him, his arms around me, keeping me warm and safe. 

…

The following Saturday, my dad drops me off at the school gym where I have cheer practice all morning. Really, this time.

“I can get a ride home after, daddy,” I say, leaning on the hood of the car to look inside. The fall wind is crisp against my legs, bare from the short skirt of my uniform. “You don’t have to come back and pick me up.” 

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. “Thank you for taking me.” 

“You’re welcome, darlin’,” he says, then nods me goodbye. 

I hurry into the school and meet my squad, ushered in by Lexie and Teddy as they’re gathered inside the big gym. There’s loud music playing in the background and the girls are stretching, so we join in. 

“The boys are outside practicing,” Lexie says, eyes glinting.

I giggle. “I know.”

“Of course you know,” Teddy says, elbowing me as I reach for one foot to stretch my hamstrings. She locks eyes with Lexie. “You already know who she’s gonna sneak off with after practice is over.” 

Lexie smirks. “Your parents still think practice goes ‘til the afternoon?” 

I nod, blushing crimson. “I know it’s not right,” I say. “But if I don’t lie, I don’t get to see Jackson.” 

“And you’d die if that happened.” 

“I really think I would,” I mutter.

We all crack up at that.

Cheer practice goes for two hours. We learn two new cheers, work on our jumps, and do a lot of tumbling, which is always my favorite. When it’s over, Lexie gets my attention and points to the door leading outside, which Jackson is leaning up against still dressed in his #2 jersey. 

“Bye, guys,” I breathe, waving at my friends before jogging to him. “Hey,” I say, and he extends his arms to give me a big hug. 

“I was watching you,” he says.

“Creep,” I say, giggling as I crane my neck to look at him. 

“You’re so hot when you fly,” he says. “Like whew… up in the air. Like a little rocket. You ever get worried they’ll gonna drop you?’ 

“They do sometimes,” I say, walking through the doors with him out to the parking lot. He swings an arm around my shoulders and keeps me close so I stay warm. “I’m used to it.”

“Oh, you’re used to falling on your head from like, ten feet in the air?” 

I swat his chest. “They usually catch me.” 

We make it to his Jeep and he opens the back door. I look at him confusedly, but he nods me inside then gets in behind me. 

“What are you doing?” I ask, scooting so he has room. 

He pops my personal bubble immediately, getting close to kiss me. I smile because of it, resting a flat hand on his chest. 

“What are you doing?” I ask again.

“I miss you,” he says, grabbing ahold of my hips to pull me onto his lap. I settle my weight on his thighs and hold his face in my hands, resting my forehead against his as his hands sneak to my butt. 

“I’m right here,” I say, my lips incredibly close to his, but I don’t kiss him. I feel his breath on my skin, we couldn’t be closer, but all I do is smile. I love having him right here, all his attention on me. I love the way his eyes feel on my body, knowing how bad he wants me. “What’re you gonna do with me?”

“More like what am I  _ not _ gonna do,” he says slyly, smacking my butt. 

I gasp a little bit, smiling as I lean into him. “Did you just spank me…?” I trail off. 

“Mm-hmm,” he says. “Want me to do it again?” 

He squeezes my behind tight in his hands and I squeal with laughter, falling to lie beneath him on the cloth seats. I pinch my eyes shut tight and laugh with my head thrown to one side, then inhale sharply as I feel him flip my cheer skirt up. 

“What are you…?” 

“It’s been too long, Peach,” he says, pulling off the tiny shorts I wear under the skirt that keep me decent. 

“Jackson,” I say, propping myself up on my elbows to look at him with alarm. “What if people see?” 

He rests his head against the inside of my knee. “Then they’ll be jealous,” he says. “I’m the king of giving head, as proclaimed by you, so-” 

“Jackson,” I say again, rolling my eyes. 

“No one’s around but us,” he says. “Ever wonder why I park so far away?” 

“So you can have your way with me?” 

“Exactly,” he says, and pulls my underwear off. 

His tongue between my legs is a sensation I’ve not yet grown accustomed to, and I don’t think I ever will. It makes my eyes roll back in my head and my thighs push in on his ears; it feels so good. 

He explores me with his mouth, spreading my lips so his tongue can slip in further. With a smile, he looks up and pushes two fingers inside me, which makes my mouth come open in a gasp that fills the whole car. Suddenly, I’m not thinking about who might see us or what’ll happen if get caught. All I’m thinking about is the way he makes me feel, looking just the way I like in his football jersey. 

“You’re wet, baby,” he says, pushing deeper. He kisses my bare knee, letting his lips rest there as he watches me writhe and keen in response to his ministrations. 

“That’s what happens when you…” I say, but lose my thought in the way my body feels. 

“When I what?” he asks, using his free hand to trail down my smooth leg. He reaches my ankle and holds it in his palm, bowing my leg out further while using it for leverage. 

“I don’t know,” I sigh, closing my eyes as I feel his mouth on me again. 

He sucks my outer lips, creating popping sounds when he releases that I relish. The windows are foggy from my heavy breathing, and that’s somewhat of a comfort. It makes me feel like we’re in our own little bubble that can’t be popped. I want to stay in it forever. 

He runs his fingertips along the soft skin of my inner thighs, making goosebumps appear as he does. I feel my muscles twitch because I want him back, so I reach lower and ghost my fingers across the nape of his neck. 

“Don’t stop,” I whisper.

He smiles and returns. He parts my lips again and licks upwards, which makes my leg muscles tense as I inhale sharply. He continues with that motion slowly, keeping his tongue relaxed and soft, while he massages my thighs with his strong hands. 

My eyelashes flutter as he changes the movement side-to-side, pressing his tongue firmly higher. He licks his lips and uses his thumb to press against my clit, which was something I never knew existed until he showed me. 

I gasp loudly and moan his name, which only encourages him. When my orgasm starts, he only gets more confident with what he’s doing, and kisses every inch of hot, pulsating skin between my thighs. When my brain is on full sensory overload, he pulls me up from my lying position to collapse against his chest, wrapping his arms around me as I come unwound from everything he did. 

As it ends, I kiss his neck with an open mouth. He smoothes his hands down my cheer skirt and holds the back of my thighs, keeping me anchored to earth. As I look into his eyes, they’re cloudy with emotion. I’m sure mine look the same - swimming with not only my orgasm, but with how much love I feel for him. 

I never thought it was possible to feel this much. I always thought that head-over-heels love in the movies was stupid and unrealistic, but now I know for a fact that it’s not. 

...

A month later, I get a call from Jackson on a Monday afternoon, about an hour after school lets out. I answer the phone after hurrying up to my room. 

“Jackson, you know you can’t-”

“I have big news,” he says, interrupting me. “Can you get over here? I wanna tell you in person.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “What kind of big news?” 

“Huge news!” he says, unable to contain himself. “I just really need to see you. Can you please come over? I want you here.” 

I look at the clock. It’s just past 4. Dinner will be on the table at 6, and I don’t know what kind of excuse I can tell my mom so I can leave the house after I just came home. 

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

I change out of my school clothes and into a modest outfit of jeans and a sweater, then make my way to my mom’s workspace down the hall. She’s sitting at her sewing machine, working on a piece of brown fabric. 

“Mama,” I say, leaning on the door. I keep my voice quiet, unassuming. She’s big on tone.

“Yes, April.” 

I swallow hard, thinking as I go. I know I’ve gotten way too good at this. I should be ashamed of myself. I pray every night for forgiveness, but I don’t know what good it does when I continue to act on the same sin over and over again. 

“May I go over to Lexie’s house? We have a big English test coming up and she needs my help studying.” 

My mother stops her movements with the sewing machine and sits still. “You’ve found yourself leaving the house quite often lately,” she says. 

“I know, mama.” My stomach twists. I hate this feeling. This is the worst part. 

“Is Lexie aware that she’s taking away from your time at home with your family?” 

“She needs help, mama. I don’t think I could bear to… she was crying on the phone. She doesn’t want to fail, and she knows I’m the top of our class.” 

“Don’t boast. It’s not becoming on a young lady.” 

I bow my head. “I’m sorry, mama.” 

“You may go and help her. But I want you home for supper.” 

I do my best in keeping the smile off my face. I have to keep up my act until I’m out of this room. “Thank you, mama,” I say. “I won’t be late, I promise.” 

I hurry down the hall and to the car, where I get in and drive to Jackson’s as fast as the speed limit allows. I pull into his driveway and hurry out, rushing inside the front door to find him already in the entryway, waiting for me. 

“What is it?!” I say excitedly, latching my arms around his waist. 

He’s beaming. His eyes are shining and his smile is a mile wide. He hands me a piece of paper and I look at him, seeing that he’s nodding me along to read it.

I open it, unfolding carefully.

 

_ Dear Jackson, _

_ Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to the Villanova University Class of 2015. _

 

I stop reading right there. I drop the paper and gape, then leap into his arms. 

“You did it, baby!” I cheer. “You did it! You got in!” 

“I more than got in,” he says, setting me back down. He holds my face in his hands and looks deep into my eyes as I search his. “I got a full ride. For football.” 

My eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. “A full…” I can’t contain myself. I jump into his arms again and he holds me even tighter, kissing me over and over. “A full ride! Oh my god, Jackson! That’s so amazing!”

“I know!” he says. “A scout saw me and wanted me.” He can barely catch his breath. “I never thought this would actually happen.”

I rest my hands on either side of his neck and kiss him, closing my eyes and leaning my weight against his chest. “I always did,” I say. 

We smile with our foreheads pressed against each other, then kiss until we can’t see straight. 

“You wanna celebrate?” I ask, when we’re up in his room. I pull out of his arms and stand a few feet away, stripping my sweater off over my head so I’m left in just my jeans and bra. 

He smiles devilishly. “Of course I do,” he says. “Get over here.” 

He picks me up and tosses me on the bed, and I squeal as I laugh. I wrap my arms around his neck and relish the weight of his body relaxing against mine, tipping my head up as his lips find my throat. 

“I never could’ve done this without you,” he says.

I smirk to myself, trailing my fingertips down his back. “Yes, you could’ve.” 

“No, I really couldn’t,” he says adamantly. 

“Jackson,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Me cheering for-” 

“Not just that,” he says, sitting up and pulling his shirt off. I let my eyes roam over his defined chest, pausing on his pecs and lower to his abs. “You’ve been with me every step of the way. You helped me fill out this application.” 

“Well, I’m your biggest fan,” I say, eyes shining. 

“And I’m yours,” he says. “Just wait ‘til you get your full ride. I’m gonna rent a plane and fly a banner over town.” 

I crack up, throwing my head back with laughter. He laughs with me, kissing my open neck and getting me out of my jeans seemingly at once. We come together as we always do, bodies moving as one as we make the other feel good. 

“I love you, Peach,” he says, mouth covering my nipple. My eyes flutter as his tongue hardens it to a peak, and I finger-comb his curls back from his face. I can’t help but smile at the nickname he gave me just after we started dating. He tried to call me Apricot, but it was too long. So, he chose another fruit instead. Peach just stuck. 

“I love you more,” I say, and truly mean it from the bottom of my heart. He is everything to me. “And I’m so…” My words get lost as he kisses down my stomach, nuzzling his nose in the invisible hair below my bellybutton. I let out a little moan. “I’m so proud of you.” 

When we’re fully naked and ready for it to happen, Jackson throws his head back and makes a loud sound of frustration. “I don’t have a condom,” he groans. 

I open my legs wider, pulling at his hips to beckon him forward. “It’s fine,” I say, urging him along. “Just this once.”

…

The next day after school, I see Jackson at his locker for the first time all day. A few of his teammates are gathered around him, smiling widely and patting him on the back, so I keep to the side with my hands on my backpack straps. I wait until they dissipate, and walk lightly over as he’s digging around for his bag. 

“Hey, quarterback,” I say, and he peeks around the locker door to make eye contact. 

He chuckles. “You saw all that, huh?” 

I nod. “So, you told them?” 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“What’d they think?” 

He shrugs, playing modest. “They think it’s awesome. But I’m not worried about what they think,” he says. “Only you.” 

I lean my head against the cool metal and sigh dramatically. “Yeah, well… soon Mr. Football Star is gonna move away and forget all about his girlfriend…” 

He shuts his locker and looks at me, but he isn’t smiling like I thought he would be. I can’t help but match his serious expression when I see it, feeling the taunting smile die from my face. 

“That’s impossible,” he says. 

“I’m just joking, baby,” I say, smiling softly as I wind an arm around the small of his back. 

“I know,” he says, eyebrows furrowing. “But… just don’t say that, okay?” 

“Okay.”

He taps the bracelet on my wrist, and I don’t need any words to know what he’s thinking. I tap bracelet he wears, mirroring his action and repeating the sentiment:  _ forever _ . 

...

I find out I’m pregnant on New Year’s Day. I’d spent mornings of the last two weeks throwing up first thing, hiding my sickness from my family. When I missed my period, I knew I had to do something. So, I bought six pregnancy tests from the gas station and practically fainted when they all read positive. 

I’m standing in an assembly line between my mother and youngest sister, volunteering at church handing meals out to people who can’t afford them on this chilly night. I would normally enjoy doing something good like this for the community, but my mind is very far away. I’m staring into space, my movements robotic, as I go through the motions.

I’m pregnant with Jackson’s child. 

I look to my mom, smiling demurely at the people whose bowls she dishes soup into. I look, then, to my sister, handing out chunks of bread. I’ll be a pariah once they find out. 

I look around the cafeteria, where everyone is eating. Our town is small and I know a lot of these faces. Everyone will talk. I’m the pastor’s daughter. Everyone will know. And everyone will judge me, judge us. Everything will change.

I refuse to go to the doctor, but I’m pretty sure I’m about four weeks along. I’m too afraid to look anything up online, but I think that means my baby is smaller than a pencil eraser. Just a tiny bundle of cells. 

Even though I’ve stopped adopting most of my family’s religious views, I could never, will never abort it. I would never be able to live with myself knowing I erased a life that Jackson and I created. I’ll see this through. How, I don’t know. What I’ll do once the baby is born, I really don’t know. 

I blink hard and try to reorient myself. I need to see Jackson. He needs to know. I want to tell him, not to burden him but to have someone on my side through all this. I know my family won’t be. I’ll be lucky if they let me stay under their roof. 

We never stay up to watch the ball drop. After we get home from volunteering, everyone goes to bed with prayers. I retreat to my room without a word and wait an hour so the house will settle, then put on my winter gear to sneak out my window like I do when I’m desperate to see him. 

I think tonight counts as more than desperate.

When I make it to Jackson’s house, the lights are on and his mom’s car is in the driveway, so I knock. He answers wearing a pair of glasses with ‘2010’ on the lenses, smiling widely. 

“Baby!” he says, opening the door to welcome me inside. “I didn’t know you were coming. Did you sneak out?” 

I nod shakily, wringing my hands. 

“Mom’s in the kitchen with Richard,” he says, rolling his eyes. “We can come back down and watch the ball drop later. Wanna go up to my room? She won’t care.” 

“Sure,” I answer, my voice barely a peep.

“You okay?” he asks, leading the way. 

“Yeah,” I say, shedding my coat and boots to follow him up the stairs. 

When he closes his bedroom door, we’re surrounded by silence. He walks over to his desk and digs through his papers, then pulls out a brochure that he holds out for me to look at.

“I wanted to show you this,” he says. “Look at these awesome dorms. I always thought dorms were like, these prison-cell looking things. But no, these are like mini-hotel rooms! They’re awesome!” He kisses the side of my head. “I already can’t wait for you to come visit. You hear back from U Penn yet?” 

We applied to colleges around the same areas, and now that he’s confirmed for Villanova, we’re planning that I’ll get accepted to U Penn, Lehigh and Carnegie Mellon University. Or at least, we were. I don’t know what will become of my college career now. 

“No,” I say, even though I got the letters earlier this week. I was accepted to all three.

“Oh,” he says. “Well, you’ll find out soon. Babe, I can’t wait. Our lives are actually gonna start.”

I smile at him as best I can. The look in his eyes is the happiest I’ve ever seen. It’s breaking my heart. 

“The colleges aren’t even that far from each other, and I can drive to you all the time. I won’t always make you drive to me. We can study together and after freshman year, I don’t know, would you wanna move in together? In an apartment? On-campus housing is a real bitch with cost… it might be smart, actually. What do you think?” 

“That sounds great,” I say, voice weak. 

He smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that. Do you think you’re gonna cheer?” 

I picture my round, pregnant belly protruding out of a cheer uniform and I feel sick. 

“I don’t know,” I say, sitting on the edge of his bed. I can practically feel the weight of the six pregnancy tests inside my purse, begging to be exposed. But I can’t force myself to do it.

“If you do, I’ll be at every meet,” he says. “I promise. Competitive cheer would be awesome. I know you’d make flyer.” 

“Yeah,” I say. 

“You sure you’re okay, Peachy?” he asks, sitting next to me. He cranes his neck to try and catch my eyes, but I can’t find it within myself to look back. 

I can’t tell him. I won’t. All it’ll do is ruin his life. It’ll hold him back from everything amazing that’s about to start for him. I won’t make us the token couple who gets stuck in our hometown, I won’t let my pregnancy keep him from his dreams.

I accept that this is mine to handle and mine alone. He doesn’t have to know.

“I’m fine,” I say, hands capped over my knees. I look at him and force a smile. “I’m really excited about all your college stuff. You seem really happy.” 

“I am,” he says. “I just feel like everything’s finally falling into place, you know? For me, and for us. We’re gonna do this together, we’re gonna move out east together and it’s gonna be awesome. Your crazy family isn’t gonna be there to tell you what to do, and we can make our own lives. Make our own decisions. Together.” 

I nod slightly. “Sounds great,” I say, then stand up. I can’t bear to be here anymore. All it’s doing is making me upset. I need to go back home where I can be alone. Coming here was a mistake. 

He deserves better than me, better what I can give him, better than the situation I was about to present him with. 

“I should go,” I say.

“But you just got here,” he says, looking confused. “Thought you were gonna stay and watch the ball drop. Ring in the new year with your super-cute boyfriend who misses the hell out of you.” 

I chuckle halfheartedly. “I just don’t think it’s the best idea,” I say. “I don’t want my…” My words fade and trail off. “I just should go.” 

“Okay…” he says. “I’ll walk you out.” 

He kisses me goodbye and tries to read my eyes. I know he knows something is on my mind, but I won’t tell him. I don’t plan on ever letting this secret go. 

…

Months pass. It gets colder outside, then frigid. I don’t go to the doctor’s and I wear bulky, loose clothing. I barely let Jackson touch me. 

I’m growing by the day. My face is fuller, belly rounder, feet more swollen. I’m pregnant, there’s no denying. But I’ve succeeded in hiding it from everyone I know. 

As winter passes and the weather gets warmer, my belly is harder to hide. When I’m six months along, the right angle will give me away. I have to carefully calculate how I present myself. 

I know I can’t stay here for much longer. My mother and father keep trying to make college plans, and I go along with them halfheartedly. I know they won’t happen, because I’ve been planning something very different. Alone.

With my two jobs as youth pastor at my church and at the library, I’m saving enough money for a ticket out of here and first month’s rent for an apartment in Chicago. I have a savings fund that I can access once I turn 18. There isn’t a crazy amount in there, but it’s enough to get me started. 

There’s a Greyhound bus that leaves from my hometown in Ohio that will take me directly into the city. One of these days, I plan on being on it. I don’t know when yet, but I think my gut will tell me. 

I’m over at Jackson’s house right now, thinking about everything. I’m wearing a sweater in June, keeping my arms wrapped around my stomach, watching him fill out forms for college. He’s leaving in just a couple months. 

This is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Leaving him, having his child, knowing he’s somewhere else existing without me. Wondering where I am, what I did. 

But I know it has to be done. I won’t hold him back. I won’t be that person. I can do this on my own, and he can live the life he’s always dreamed. I want that for him. I want it more than anything. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, pushing the papers away. “I’m tired of college already.” 

I blink, slow and deliberate. “It’ll be okay,” I say. 

He sighs and meets my eyes. “Will you lay down with me?” he asks. “I’m so tired. I just wanna… can I just hold you for a little bit?”

I’ve been his comfort for as long as we’ve been dating. When he’s sad, he wants to be near me. When he’s stressed, worried, or hurt, I’m his first thought. 

I hate knowing it won’t be like this for much longer.

“Yeah,” I say, though I’m nervous about how this will work. I’ve been skittish of him near my stomach lately, for good reason. But I want to make him feel better, I want to be close to him for what might be one of the last times. I want him to know I always loved him, and I always will. I don’t want him to think I disappeared because of something he did. 

I’ve been trying to draft the letter I plan on leaving him for weeks. But nothing comes out the way I want it to. 

We go up to his bedroom and he lies on his back, extending an arm for me. I rest my head in the crook of his shoulder and take his hand that’s on his stomach, spinning the bracelet that matches mine. I smile as it glints in the light, and turn it so I can see the plate. I run the pad of my pointer finger over the cursive lettering, the tiny etched ‘forever’ in the middle, and feel the weight of my own as I touch his. 

We never take them off. He got them made for us for our one-year anniversary, and I never expected anything so nice. I’ve managed to hide it from my parents for a long time, and I know that once I leave this town, leave him, it’ll be something I never lose. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, lips moving against my forehead. 

I nod.

“You don’t really seem okay,” he whispers. 

“I am,” I murmur. 

“You don’t seem like you,” he says. 

“I’m okay,” I say, voice wavering. 

“Are you scared?” he asks. “Of all this change?” 

I nod again. Little does he know. 

“It’ll be okay, Peach,” he assures me. “We’ll always have each other. You know that, right? You’re always gonna have me.”

“Okay,” I say, barely a peep. 

“I know it’s huge and scary right now. And it seems like everything’s gonna be messed up. But it’s not. It’s gonna be awesome, even better than it is now. You’re gonna be awesome at U Penn, we’re gonna see each other all the time. Nothing about us is gonna change.” 

I sniffle. “You promise?” 

I don’t know why I say it. I think I just want to hear him respond, hear the answer I know he’ll give me. 

“Of course,” he says. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you, too,” I say. 

…

I spend less and less time with Jackson as the summer goes on. I make excuses not to see him, not to see anyone. I hide in my room for the better part of each day, leaving only to work. 

My condition is getting harder and harder to hide. I buy my bus ticket. I know my time to leave is coming soon. 

On a hot day in the beginning of August, I pen the letter to my parents. I leave it short and sweet, just enough to assure they won’t come looking for me. 

 

_ Dear Mama and Daddy, _

_ I’m sorry for this, but it’s what I had to do. I’m leaving home and I’m not coming back. I’m safe, I promise. But please don’t look for me. I’ve made a mistake I can’t take back. Thank you for everything you’ve done. _

_ PS- Libby, Kimmie, and Alice… I love you. _

 

I fold the paper in half and push it to the side, staring for a long moment before clicking my pen again and starting in on Jackson’s. This one will hurt more, hurt the most. It’ll break every inch of my heart to write it, knowing that I’m breaking his. 

 

_ Dear Jackson, _

_ I’m sorry for leaving you, but I had go. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and none of them should involve you. You’re meant for great things. I never wanted to keep you from those things. I hope you understand that’s why I have to go. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. And I’ll never stop. But I don’t want you to come looking for me. This is what I want. I need to get away from here and start fresh. I can’t tell you why. I just need you to forget about me. Just know that I loved you enough to let you go. I need you to do the same.  _

_ You’ll always be in my heart. _

_ -Peach _

 

I don’t let myself see him one last time. If I did, I know I wouldn’t end up leaving. As I’m sitting on that bus staring out the window at the town where I grew up, the one I’ll never return to, I think about the first time I saw Jackson. We were in the same biology class, lab partners, both fascinated by the frog dissection while everyone else was disgusted. From then on, we were best friends. 

I remember our first kiss - just outside the stadium after we won a huge game. He was still in his shoulder pads, I was still in my cheer uniform. I ran to him expecting a hug and he gave me my first kiss. We were exclusive soon after. 

We dropped ‘I love yous’ without waiting long, but it felt right. I wish more than anything that I could tell him one last time, but the letter has to be enough. I left it on his porch early this morning on my way to the bus station, right on top of the welcome mat. 

I’m changing my number once I get into the city. No one will be able to find or contact me. I’ll start fresh. 

I don’t know what life will throw me once the baby is born. I have no idea what to expect. But I think I’m doing the right thing in taking him or her away from a community that would treat us like outcasts. I can make a life for us. I have enough money saved. I have a strong head on my shoulders. I’m confident, smart and responsible. I can do this. 

I stare down at my lap, at the cherries printed on the only dress left that fit me. He hadn’t known it, but the last time Jackson and saw each other we were in his driveway. He had walked me out to my car, one palm resting on the hood as I leaned back against it, talking about his football schedule. He was intimidated by it, but I barely heard a word he said. I couldn’t listen. My eyes were searching his face, desperately trying to memorize everything I would have to keep close with his senior picture. 

His wallet-sized senior picture with  _ LOVE YOU, PEACHY  _ scrawled on the back in his horrible handwriting. 

The bus starts to move. I take one lasting look at my town, then close my eyes as the tears leak from the corners. I can’t bear to watch it go.

…

_ CHICAGO, PRESENT _

When Theo gets bronchitis, there isn’t a simple treatment. He has asthma, so it involves a trip and a stay in the hospital. It’s something we’re both used to, but it never ceases to scare me. Though he’s always in good spirits during his stays, I never leave his side. 

“Mama, what’s nine plus seven plus four plus seventeen?” 

I smile to myself, leaning forward on my elbows that rest on his bed. “Am I your human calculator?” I ask. 

He smiles. His eyes sparkle like his father’s. 

“You’re a genius, mama,” he says. “You know everything. Right?” 

“Right,” I say. “And it’s thirty-seven.” 

He grins again, ever wider this time as he claps his hands together. When he starts breathing harder, though, he coughs and wheezes with his eyebrows furrowed together. I grab his inhaler and hold it between his lips, pressing the oxygen into his mouth. When he breathes easier, so do I.

He rests his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes. “Will you lay by me, mama?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say. “Scoot over.” 

He does, and I nestle close to my son on the tiny hospital bed, lifting the thin cover over both of us. I kiss the side of his head and nuzzle my nose against his temple, breathing in his sweet, familiar scent.

“You okay?” I ask. 

“Coughing makes my chest hurt.” 

I rub his sternum, knowing what he means. It must be exhausting. “I know, baby boy,” I say. “You’re gonna be better soon, though. I promise.” 

“Soon soon?” he asks. 

“In the blink of an eye.” 

“I blinked,” he says. “I’m not better.” 

I chuckle, kissing his hair. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” 

“I’m a genius, too,” he says. “Just like you.”

“How about two geniuses take a little nap,” I say. “And when we wake up, we’ll be even smarter.” 

He agrees silently, closing his eyes as he rests his head against mine. I tickle his arm, running my fingernails up and down the length of it, until his breathing comes steadier and he falls deeply asleep. I go next, shutting my eyes and feeling complete with my son at my side, where I like him best. 

I’m awoken a while later by his stirring beside me. I open my eyes, vision blurry, and see someone standing in the doorway with a camera crew. 

Theo sits up, back rigid and straight. I concentrate on his face and see that his eyes are wide, mouth gaping open. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. 

I follow his gaze, and realize what’s the matter moments after he does.

When my son speaks, our whole world falls down. 

“Daddy?” 


	2. Chapter 2

_GOLD COAST CHIROPRACTIC, 2 YEARS AGO_

It’s snowing like crazy, which means Theo has a snow day. His school is closed, so without a sitter he had to come into the clinic with me while I work during the afternoon.  

I’m 22 and almost finished with night school. I work at a chiropractic office and it’s my goal to own a practice of my own a few years down the road, but for right now this job is enough. I work while Theo goes to preschool, and I finally feel comfortable standing on my own two feet. It took me a while, but I did it. Things are starting to feel stable for once.

I put food on the table and send my son to school in clean clothes. I keep a roof over our heads by paying the rent on time every month. We love each other endlessly. I can’t ask for much more.

I’ve just finished with a patient and walk out of the room, washing my hands as I greet Theo where he sits behind the glass with our receptionist.

“Hi, sweet boy,” I say, bending at the waist to kiss his curls.

“Mama,” he says, stretching his arms up to be held. I lift him up so he perches on my hip, arms around my neck and legs around my waist. We fit together perfectly.

“Hi,” I say, kissing his cheek.

“Mama, where’s my daddy?”

My face grows hot and my stomach sinks. This is a moment I’ve thought about since before he was born, since the idea of my leaving planted itself in my head. I thought of the day my child would look me in the eyes and ask about what I robbed from them. And now, that day has come. Theo is looking at me - green eyes on hazel - and asking a question I never quite figured out how to answer.

The receptionist, Janet, looks up and raises her eyebrows. “Been a lot of kids and dads in and out today,” she says. “He asked me first. I told him to wait and ask you.”

I meet my son’s eyes again, opening and closing my mouth like some sort of fish. He blinks slowly, his crazy-long eyelashes gracing his skin, and tips his head to one side with calm curiosity.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet, buddy,” I say, taking him to the empty lobby. “I wanna tell you a story.”

It’s lunch break, which means new patients won’t be coming in for an hour or so. I sit with Theo on an uncomfortable chair and he rests the side of his body against my chest, letting his legs swing down over my thighs.

“You wanna know about your daddy?” I ask.

Theo nods, looking at me with those big eyes of his father’s.

“Your daddy…” I begin, finding it hard to continue because my throat tightens with tears. I picture Jackson on the football field in high school, making eye contact with me after an impressive play. I picture him lying on his bed wearing a hoodie, talking to me about anything mundane. I picture his hand in mine, his skin close to Theo’s shade, as we walked out of the football stadium. I can still feel the warmth from it, if I really concentrate. “Was very special to me.”

“You told me everybody’s special.”

I nod, smiling as he recalls my own words. “You’re right,” I say, then squeeze him. “But your daddy… he was extra special.”

“Why?”

I rest my chin on top of my son’s head and close my eyes. As I touch his hair, I can’t help but remember how Jackson’s felt interwoven through my fingers when it got too long. Everything about Theo reminds me of Jackson - absolutely everything. From the way he laughs to the way he seeks me out when he’s sad or hurt. Through it all, I was Jackson’s pillar of strength. And now, I’m his son’s.

“Because he was funny,” I say. “He was funny and kind, and so, so smart. Just like you.” I smile and hold his shoulders in my hands. “Maybe that’s the reason why you’re so smart.”

“Or I got that because of you,” he says. “I think you gave that to me, mama.”

“Or that, too,” I say, a bit quieter. I still feel guilty for what I did in taking Theo from Jackson, and therein robbing Jackson from Theo. I find it hard to attribute any of Theo’s positive qualities to myself. I still haven’t come close to forgiveness.

“What else about my daddy?”

The corners of my lips pull up in a subtle grin. “We met in high school,” I say. “We were best friends. Then we fell in love.”

“Like a prince and a princess in the movies?”

My chest tightens. I don’t know how much longer I can talk about this, but I know I have to. He deserves this. For him, I have to.

“Yes,” I say. “A lot like that.”

“Did you get married and kiss on the lips?”

My smile dies away. Of course, the thought has crossed my mind many times before. If things had worked out differently for Jackson and I, would we have gotten married? I have every reason to believe that we would. I can practically see him in a crisp tuxedo, standing at the altar, waiting for me.

But I can’t bring myself to wish for that. Because with that image, the one sitting on my lap leaning his warm weight against me would be lost. Erased.

“We never did, no,” I say. “I moved away from him. A long time ago. But before I left, he did the best thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“What?”

I press a lasting kiss to my son’s temple. “He gave me you.”

…

_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, 6 MONTHS AGO_

I don’t let my mind wander to thoughts of Jackson often. A snippet in passing, a glance at a magazine in the grocery store, a glimpse of a sponsored commercial. I don’t get lost in the present version of him. If anything, I get lost in who he used to be. And who I used to be with him.

But tonight is different. Tonight, Theo is sound asleep in his room with the white noise machine on, and I’m sitting up in bed with the laptop open on my lap, bright light shining onto my face.

I’m on YouTube with the sound down low. Not because I’m worried it’ll wake up my son, but because I’m ashamed to be doing this. I really shouldn’t; I must be a glutton for punishment.

I’ve never searched ‘Jackson Avery interview’ before. But as of about twenty minutes ago, I can’t say that anymore.

I’m not even really listening to what he’s saying. I can tell none of it is genuine, anyway. His words aren’t what matter to me. What matters is simply watching his face and the way it moves, seeing his familiar expressions that I still know so well.

I’m actually amazed at how well I know them. I can practically read his mind through the screen.

I click through dozens of interviews, studying him as I go. But eventually, my eyelids get heavy and I doze off with the videos still going on autoplay on my lap.

I start dreaming almost immediately, but it’s one where I don’t know it’s a dream. It feels completely real.

I’m with Jackson. A dream with him in it isn’t necessarily unusual, but it is tonight, because it’s not the version of him I’m used to. I usually dream about the version I know, the one from high school, the one I loved. But tonight, I dream about him as a man. A burly, muscular football player with manly facial hair and a chiseled face. There’s nothing ‘high-school-boy’ about him. Nothing whatsoever.

I catch a glimpse of him, and much in the way that dreams go, we’re suddenly in bed. I can still clearly remember the last time we slept together. I was pregnant, but not yet showing. We spent a lot of time touching each other then, dragging feather-light fingertips over goosebumps-covered skin and memorizing each other with our lips.

This dream isn’t anything like that.

This is all hands and mouths and teeth. This is hot breath and sweat and panting, moaning, keening, pulling and positioning. The senses within me come alive as he pins me down on the bed, pushing himself deep inside and making me scream his name. I can feel every ridge of him almost as clear as the real thing.

His hands are everywhere on me, creating a road map he doesn’t need. They’re framing my face, squeezing my breasts, burying themselves between my thighs.

When I come, I feel a shockwave ripple through every nerve ending. My body buzzes and all I want is to get him closer, wrap him around me, keep him forever. I don’t want to let him go again.

But he does, he does disappear. In the dream, I’m left alone, my body spent and empty. And when I blink open my eyes, I find myself disoriented with my laptop’s battery having died, the screen gone black.

I can’t hold onto him anymore. I have to stop.

…

_LAKEVIEW, CHICAGO, 2 YEARS AGO_

Parties aren’t my thing. They never have been, even when I was a cheerleader in high school. Back then, I had the excuse of strict parents to keep me at home. Now, I have nothing. Because I have friends in the city I’ve made my new life in, I have to say yes to parties.

But this is one I really don’t want to be at. It’s a Superbowl party, and the Seahawks are playing. I’m not even sure who the opposing team is, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the Seahawks are on television, and I have to spend the entire night avoiding it when all I really want to do is plant myself a foot away and watch for him.

Watch for him, the quarterback of the team. My quarterback.

Theo knows who Jackson is. A few days after our initial conversation in the chiropractor’s office lobby, he asked to see a picture of his father. I decided to come out and tell him the whole truth, pulling out a sports magazine to show him who was on the cover. Jackson Avery, quarterback for the Seattle Seahawks, to play in the Superbowl in January.

He knows they’re playing tonight. He’s in the TV room with a handful of other kids, watching the game I assume. I’m in the kitchen with the host, cleaning up.

“April, you don’t have to worry about helping,” my friend from work, Callie, says. “You should go watch the game. It’s what you’re here for.”

“I don’t mind,” I say, setting my glass of wine down. Everyone here is considerably older than me - I get mistaken for Theo’s nanny more often than not. The shame that comes with that still follows me everywhere I go. When people find out my age and see my son, they know I was a teen mom, pregnant at seventeen. There are so many questions just under the surface that no one asks, but talk about once I leave the room.

Except with my group of friends here. They know my story, vaguely at least. Callie and Addison are my two close friends from work who know the most about mine and Theo’s situation. I’m friendly with everyone there, but only to a certain degree. I’ve become a very private person. I’ve told no one who Theo’s father is in fear that they’ll think I’m lying or that it will get out to the public that famous quarterback, Jackson Avery, has a son he’s never met.

“You sure?” Callie asks, looking at me as she loads the dishwasher.

“I’m good,” I say, forcing a smile. “Parties aren’t really my thing. I prefer small groups.”

“I feel you.”

Interrupting our conversation, I hear the rush of little feet hurrying into the kitchen and am met with the force of my son’s body hitting my legs. It only takes me a moment to figure out he’s crying.

“Baby,” I say, stooping to his level and holding his teary face between my palms. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

He takes in a rattling breath, lower lip trembling as he does. “I told them!” he wails. “I told them. I said… I-I said…” He can barely speak he’s crying so hard, so I take him in my arms and hold him close. I stroke his back, rubbing in circles, trying to get him to calm down before he speaks again. “I said, mommy,” he finally says, chest still quivering. “I said that my daddy’s playing football and nobody believed me. They called me a liar!”

My face burns. I should’ve known something like this would happen. I find myself with a boiling gut of anger towards the other children for calling my son a name, and now I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I take a deep breath and plant my hands on Theo’s small shoulders. “Honey,” I say, reaching to swipe his tears away. He still sniffling, but he’s stable. “Let me tell you something.”

“That _is_ my daddy,” he insists, cheeks flushed.

“Yes, it is,” I say. “And you know that. I know that, and you know it. Right?”

He nods, looking off to the side with a pouty lower lip.

“Nobody can take that away from you, if you know it in your heart.” I press my pointer finger against his chest. “You keep it in here. You can ask me any old question you want about your daddy, anytime. But other kids… other kids will have a hard time understanding. Okay?”

“Because their daddy doesn’t play football on TV.”

“Right,” I say, smoothing his curls.

He throws his arms around me and buries his face in my neck, still shaking slightly. “I wanna go home,” he mutters, voice lost in my hair.

“Okay,” I say. “We’ll go home.”

We watch the Seahawks win the Superbowl from the comfort of our own couch. Theo, with his palms pressed to our TV screen, watches in rapture as his father plays the game he loves. He falls asleep before the celebration, but I keep the game on with the volume on low. The last thing I see before falling to sleep myself is Jackson’s sweaty, victorious face plastered across our TV screen.

…

_LURIE’S CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL, CHICAGO, PRESENT_

The room freezes as Jackson comes inside. I’m still lying with Theo on the hospital bed, one arm wrapped protectively around him. We lock eyes, Jackson and I, and I have no idea how to react. I never thought this moment would come.

I see a ‘Make A Wish’ logo on one of the cameras. He must have been here granting some other child’s wish and decided to come around and see other sick kids. I see him in People Magazine doing stuff like this all the time.

“Get the cameras out of here,” he mutters, and they obey his order directly.

As quick as they appeared, they’re gone. I don’t say a word. All I can do is stare. And he stares right back.

“Peach?” he says.

That nickname. I close my eyes for a long moment and remember how much he used to say it. I can still see it, in my mind’s eye, scrawled on the back of his senior picture. The senior picture that’s stored away in my desk drawer at home, tucked under important papers and documents. I’m not enough of a masochist to keep it out where I can see, but I would never throw it away.

I clear my throat and lick my lips, arm tightening around Theo’s shoulders. “April,” I say, hoping my voice comes across as strongly as I want it to. “It’s April.”

Jackson’s eyes flit to Theo. To his son, who still hasn’t moved. His back is rigid, eyes wide, form leaning dependently against mine. To him, Jackson has always been a faraway figure. As untouchable as Jesus or Santa Claus. So, the fact that his father is standing five feet away in the doorway of his hospital room is probably shaking his world to the core.

I feel the two of them make eye contact and call back the numerous times I almost called Jackson. Almost wrote him a long letter, telling him everything. I wanted to put it all out there, tell all my secrets, explain everything away. I wanted the weight of my secret lifted from my shoulders; I wanted the one person I could share it with to hold half of its meaning.

But then I’d be in the grocery store and see his face on the cover of US Weekly or OK! Magazine, some new rumor swirling around him. I’d flick on the TV and see his stats on SportsCenter and know how unrealistic I was being. He didn’t have room in his life for a son. He didn’t have room in his life for a debilitating secret, a life-changing human being. He didn’t have room to shoulder what I beared.

A silent, loaded moment passes over the three of us. The air is charged with electricity, so much so that it feels like I could reach out and touch it.

I sit up straighter. He’s still made no move to come closer.

“I have to ask you to leave,” I finally say, and conjuring every ounce strength I possess to say those words.

Jackson’s shoulders tense, his chest puffs out and his eyes darken. “You owe me an explanation,” he says, voice firm but even.

I stand up from Theo’s hospital bed and leave my son’s side. I walk to Jackson, standing in his vicinity for the first time in six years, and I don’t break eye contact.

“Yes, I do,” I say, my voice quiet so Theo won’t hear. “But not in front of our son.”

…

My whole body is trembling as I lay beside Theo that night. Ever since Jackson left, my little boy has stayed uncharacteristically quiet. I don’t have to wonder about the reason, because I’ve been in the same state. I think we’re both more than a little shocked.

Theo rests his head over my heartbeat, his cheek against the soft fabric of my pajama shirt. He runs the hem of it between his thumb and first finger, and I will my mind to go numb. But of course, it doesn’t.

Jackson was here earlier. He was standing in the same room as both me and our son. I looked him in the eyes. After years with no contact, disappearing off the face of the earth, I looked into his face and he looked back at me. It was more than just seeing him on a TV screen. He breathed the same air as the little boy he helped create.

He got taller. Substantially so. He’s always stood higher than me, but this time it was blatantly noticeable. His shoulders were broad, strong and capable. His biceps were bulging. He is so much more than the wiry, athletic boy I left behind.

“Mama,” Theo murmurs, his voice barely there under the steady sounds of the hospital.

“I’m right here, baby,” I say, kissing the top of his head.

“That was my dad, right?”

I nod slowly, thinking over what I want to say. “Yes,” I say. “That was your dad.”

“Did he come to see me?”

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. I’m not sure how to answer that. I want to tell him the truth, but I don’t want to crush him. He’s six years old. He isn’t ready for the weight of the world yet.

“I don’t know, honey,” I say. “I don’t really know why he was here.”

“Did you call him?”

“No,” I say. “It was a surprise for me, too.”

“A good surprise?” he asks.

That’s a question I don’t know the answer to myself. But for my son, I say, “Yes.” I kiss his hairline and he snuggles closer, wrapping an arm tight around my middle. “Time to go to sleep, Mr. Roosevelt.”

“Teddy Roosevelt won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1906,” Theo says, his voice growing slurred with sleepiness.

I smile to myself and hug him close. “Tell me one more,” I say.

“He was the first president to ever… leave the country while he was still president,” he says, nestling his head on my chest.

“I love that,” I whisper. “Goodnight, teddy bear.”

I lay with my son in hopes to fall asleep, but I can’t even close my eyes without seeing Jackson behind them. So I just stay where I am, arms wrapped around Theo, leaning my cheek against the top of his head as he drift further into unconsciousness.

A few hours pass when my phone rings on the nightstand, buzzing against the wood. I jump a bit, startled from the sound, and grapple for it quickly so it won’t wake Theo up.

“Hello?” I whisper. I know it could only be one other person on the other end. I gave Jackson my number earlier, knowing there was no way I could avoid it. Nor did I want to.

“Hey,” he says, voice smooth as silk. I close my eyes and picture us in the car together after cheer practice, fogging up the windows. His face close to mine, his hands planted on either sides of my hips, his sweet breath falling over my lips. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Oh,” he says. “Good. So… I was hoping we could talk someplace private. I have good security here at my hotel. It’s The Plaza, downtown. Penthouse floor. I can have a car come pick you up.”

I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head, though he can’t see me. “No,” I say.

“No?”

“I can’t do that,” I say, solidifying my arm around Theo. “I have to stay here. With…” I look down at the sleeping boy beside me and let his name freeze in my throat. I haven’t said it out loud to Jackson yet. I don’t want the first time to be over the phone.

“Right,” he says, catching my drift anyway. “Right. Well…” He thinks for a moment. “Then I’ll come to you.”

I wait on the bench outside Theo’s room for Jackson to show up. When I hear footsteps coming down the hall, I lift my head and cross my arms over my chest. I put on real clothes to meet him; I didn’t feel comfortable in my pajamas. So, in jeans and a crew neck sweatshirt, I stand to greet my first love.

“Thanks for coming,” I murmur. I keep my voice low. The hospital is so quiet at night, it feels wrong to speak at any other volume.

“Of course,” he says, glancing inside the room where Theo sleeps.

I lower back down to the bench. “Please, sit,” I say, and he does.

I’m not sure how to begin this conversation. Of course, I’ve played it out in my head a billion times before, but I never thought it would actually happen. I never thought I’d be in the same room as Jackson again, no less only six years after I left him. In the great span of time, that’s hardly anything at all. But in the same breath, it feels like a lifetime has passed.

Everything is so different than how we left it.

“How’ve you been?” he asks, interrupting my tornado of thoughts. He folds his hands while leaning forward with his knees on his elbows, body language closed off.

“Good,” I answer. My palms start to sweat. Why are we doing this, this small talk? It’s meaningless. It’s a stupid buffer around the edges of what we really need to talk about, what he came here for. But it doesn’t feel right to jump into it without some sort of cordiality surrounding. “You?”

“Good,” he says, then clears his throat. “Um, well, I thought I was, at least.”

“Yeah.”

“I looked for you,” he says. He turns his head towards me, a sad smile on his face. “April, I looked for you so hard.”

My cheeks flame. I feel his eyes on me, but I can’t match them. I stare at the tiled floor, down at my slippers. They’re pink and fuzzy, Theo got them for me for Christmas last year.

“I didn’t make it easy.”

“You made it impossible,” he says. “I couldn’t find you. Obviously.”

I nod slowly. “I know,” I say. “I know.”

He takes a deep breath. “You hid… you… you were pregnant? When? How?”

“Well, the ‘how’ is easy,” I mutter.

“You know what I mean.”

I sigh deeply, wringing my hands. The sweat has only gotten worse. I’ve dreamed about this moment, this one right here that we’re holding between us. Where I have the floor, the chance to explain myself, the platform to tell him everything. But now, I find myself stuck. At a loss, without words. What can begin to encompass everything I went through, everything I’m still going through? Leaving Jackson seared a hole in my heart that my son patched up. Seeing his face again only rips it right back open.

“You want to know the whole story?” I ask, already knowing how he’ll answer.

He gives me a look and urges me along without using words.

I clear my throat. This will be the first time I’ve ever told this to anyone, let alone the one person to whom it really matters.

“I found out I was pregnant in December,” I say. The words taste bittersweet in my mouth, and something flutters in my chest. The secret that I held onto so tightly is coming alive, shaking off the dust, ready to see the sunlight. “December 2009. I had planned on telling you.”

I look to him for the first time, but now he’s not looking at me. His eyes are cemented to the floor like he’s trying to burn a hole through it.

“I really did,” I say. “I tried. I came over to your house-”

“On New Year’s,” he finishes. “I remember that. You were acting so weird.”

I get quiet. “I know,” I say. “I had the tests with me. I was going to show you. I just… I couldn’t.”

“Why?” he spits, angry now. He doesn’t understand.

“Because your life was just beginning,” I say. “You had everything planned. You were accepted to Bama on a full ride, Jackson. You were showing me all these amazing things, planning your future-”

“I was planning _our_ future.”

“But you couldn’t,” I say. “That light in your eyes, I saw it. You had everything laid out for you. Everything. Your dreams were coming true. And I couldn’t take that from you.”

He opens his mouth, a ragged breath escaping. Then, he presses his lips together and lets a frustrated breath from his nose. “I wanted my dream with you,” he says. “My dream was you.”

My heart stops. But I can’t acknowledge it. I have to keep going, my story isn’t finished.

“I hid it from you,” I say. “My pregnancy. I hid it from everyone. My family, my church, my friends… no one knew.” I shake my head. “I couldn’t tell. My family would’ve made me give him up and…” I pause. “I couldn’t do that. I knew, even then, I couldn’t do that.” My voice breaks as I look into Jackson’s eyes and say, “He was you and me. I couldn’t let him go.”

He stays silent.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye,” I say.

“That letter.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I know it was horrible and it wasn’t enough. I know it hurt you. I know…”

“It didn’t just hurt me,” he says. “It fucking ruined me, April.”

I flinch, hearing the change of his tone. I hadn’t expected such malice.

“I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I could barely exist. I called and called you. I talked to your family. They had no idea who the hell I was, but after a while they stopped searching with me. They let you go. But I couldn’t.”

“I told you-”

“You can’t just tell someone to forget about a person,” he says. “I loved you with everything I had. You were my world, didn’t you know that? You could’ve told me. We would’ve figured it out together. I would’ve helped you, damn it! We could’ve run away together, both of us. You didn’t have to do this alone.” He clenches his fists. “I was so distracted when I first got to school that I almost got kicked off the team. I almost lost my scholarship. But my mom practically beat my ass into the real world, telling me that football was what I was there for and I needed to put you and whatever you did out of my mind. So I did. I had to.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, finally speaking the words that I’ve been dying to say to him for years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to.”

“I would’ve helped you,” he says. “We could’ve-”

“There was no we, though,” I say. “Don’t you get it? That’s exactly what I was trying to avoid. If I would’ve told you I was pregnant, you would’ve stayed at home in Ohio with me. You would have passed up that amazing scholarship at that amazing school. You definitely wouldn’t be playing for the Seahawks right now.”

“And?” he says. “I would’ve had a different life, sure. But I would’ve gotten to support you. I wouldn’t have had to spend all these years thinking you died, April.” He pauses for a moment. “I would’ve gotten to…”

He doesn’t finish. We stay silent for a long time, just soft breath and emotion passing between us.

“His name is Theo,” I say. “Theodore, really. But I always call him Theo. Sometimes, he likes to pretend he’s Theodore Roosevelt. Ask him any fact about him, and he’ll know it.” I smile to myself. “He’s really smart.”

Jackson stays quiet, soaking in every word.

“I always talk to him about you,” I say, sounding eager. “He asked me first when he was about four, that was two years ago. He’s six now. He watches your games.”

He picks his head up and looks at me. I’ve never seen eyes so hopeful.

“He watches my games?”

I nod, a smile edging onto my lips. “He, um… sometimes I let him buy magazines with you on the cover. We have your special edition of Sports Illustrated. I got that framed for him. I bought a second copy because he wanted to cut you out on the cover and put you under his pillow.”

My voice cracks saying the last part.

“I know what I did was wrong,” I whisper. “But at the time, I felt like I had no other choice. I was young, Jackson. We both were.”

He nods. His eyes are glassy, staring ahead at nothing, fingers still woven together.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” I admit. “I was lost and scared for a long time. When he was a baby…” I bite my lower lip and will away tears. “I didn’t think I’d make much of anything as a mother. I didn’t feel worthy of him, I didn’t feel capable. I thought I was doing everything all wrong.” I sigh and hear my breath rattle. “I wanted you. Some nights, when he wouldn’t stop crying or… or even nights as he got older and would have asthma attacks, I wanted you. I wanted you there with me, and a few times I almost considered…” My voice dies off. “But I didn’t. I’d see you on TV and know that I couldn’t.”

I smile to myself, remembering one of the biggest details of Theo’s life.

“He was born on a Greyhound bus,” I say. “I looked at him, and I saw you. I swear I did. I was the most terrified I’d ever been in my life, but I looked at his face and... I don’t know.” A tear slips down my cheek and I wipe it away. “He saved me so many times.”

“He was born on the day you left?” Jackson asks.

“On Interstate I-90,” I say. “And he has your middle name.”

“Theodore Jackson?”

I nod.

Jackson looks at my wrist, his eyes centering there for a long time before he says anything. “You’re not wearing our bracelet,” he says.

I look down at the bare skin of my wrist, the skin that’s been bare for years now. After I left, I wore the bracelet for a long time. Years. Then, one day, I looked at it and was tired of the empty way it made me feel. The ‘forever’ was scratched and faded. It couldn’t mean anything to me anymore, and I was determined not to let it. By taking the bracelet off, I assumed it would make it easier to forget about the wearer of its twin.

It didn’t.

My eyes rove to his hands. I notice his bare wrists, too.

“You’re not, either,” I say. He unlatches his fingers and fans them out, studying them himself. As they’re laid out before me, I recognize the map of familiar veins and the hair smattering the skin before his knuckles, but then I see something unfamiliar.

A band across the ring finger of his left hand catches my attention. I’d know a ring like that anywhere, on that specific finger.

“You’re engaged,” I say. It hits me as a shock, mostly because I would normally see something like this in the tabloids.

His fingers shrink in on themselves like he’s hiding a heavy secret. I keep my eyes on him, studying the creases in his forehead, the worry lines by his eyes. His mind is heavy; it’s written all over his face.

“I have a son,” he says, saying the words slow like he’s trying them on for the first time. “You kept him from me. I had no idea. I-”

Interrupting him, I pull a wallet-sized photo from my jeans pocket. It’s Theo’s latest school picture from first grade. He’s sitting in front of a blue background, his hair trimmed nice and neat, eyes bright. His smile is wide and cheesy, and he’s wearing a green-and-black striped short sleeved shirt. In this photo, he could be a mini-Jackson.

“You have a son,” I say, and press the photo into his palm.


	3. Chapter 3

When I open my eyes the next morning, Theo is already awake and sitting at the end of the bed, flipping through a book. 

“Hi, sweetie,” I say, voice still raspy.

He lifts his head, attention on me. “Hi, mama.” 

“What’re you up to?” I ask, sitting up and pushing my hair out of my face. I feel unrested; I probably slept a total of two hours last night. I couldn’t get Jackson out of my head, nor the conversation we had that’d been dying to happen for years. Now that I’m fully conscious, it only reappears in my mind. 

“Reading."

I nod and swing my legs over the side of the bed, sliding my feet into my slippers. On the way to the bathroom attached to his room, I ruffle Theo’s hair and he tips his head up to smile at me, eyes closing when I kiss his forehead.

“How’d you sleep?” I ask, pausing where I stand.

“I dreamed about Daddy,” he says, his high-pitched voice unassuming as usual. 

My gut twists as I search his face. His green eyes look hopefully at me, a hint of a smile on his lips. It must have been a good dream. But I still don’t know what to say; I don’t know where we go from here. I never thought this would happen - not now, at least. If it were to happen, I always pictured Theo much older. A teenager, a young adult, ready to make his own decisions. Now, I still make them. And I don’t feel equipped for this one. 

When I come out from the bathroom and get dressed, Theo’s doctor comes to tell us that his lungs are clear enough for him to go home. The smile that spreads across my son’s face lights me up inside - hospital stays are from his favorite thing.

“Home!” he cheers, standing on the bed after the doctor leaves. “And back to school!”

“Soon, honey,” I say, laughing softly as I scoop him up. “Let’s get you dressed and we can get out of here.” 

Theo dances on the edge of the bed to a tune he makes up as he goes. I pull a long-sleeved green shirt over his head, and just as his curls are poking through the top, catch sight of someone lingering near the door.

I pop his head through and lift my gaze fully. It’s Jackson, standing there with a stuffed Seattle Seahawk in one hand and a cautious expression on his face.

I didn’t invite him back last night, but I’m not upset he’s here now. It’s just a surprise. 

Theo sees my eyes catch on something, so he turns around to see what it is. He follows my gaze, then flips back around to look at me, tugging on the front of my shirt. 

“Mama,” he urgently whispers. “Is that my daddy?” 

I nod slowly, biting hard on my lower lip. “Yeah,” I say. 

“Why is he here?” 

I glance at Jackson again, and he gives me a small, awkward smile. I nod, giving him entry, and he takes a few steps in only to be intercepted by Theo’s doctor with release forms for me to sign. I feel Jackson’s presence lingering as I listen to the words I’ve heard time and time again, signing here, initialing here, dating on the dotted line. It’s old hat, routine, and the doctor knows this, too. But it’s procedure. 

But I can feel the tension oozing from Theo’s father beside me. It’s strange to think of him like that, as Theo’s father. It’s not like I haven’t always, but he’s here. Standing in the room with us. Theo’s father. 

“I hope not to see you again for a long, long time,” the doctor says, giving my son a high-five as he jokes with him. 

“Yeah, see you never!” Theo replies, giggling. “Mommy, can we go home now?” 

Jackson speaks for the first time, saying, “You guys are out of here?” 

“Yeah,” I say. “Um, what are you doing here?”

It came out harsher than I meant for it to. I really am just curious, but that sounded accusatory. I clear my throat, meaning to smooth it over, but he responds before I can. 

“I’ve missed a lot,” he murmurs, voice weak but eyes strong. “I don’t want to miss any more.”

I’m conflicted, unsure of how to feel. I don’t know how to respond. Theo watches his father with curious intensity, but when Jackson looks back at him, he buries his face in my neck and stays there, fingers digging into my shoulders. 

“I brought this for him,” Jackson says, holding out the plush Seahawk. 

I take it gingerly, offering a smile. It’s a sweet gesture. Theo loves stuffed animals. Jackson couldn’t have known that, but it warms my heart all the same. 

“Theo, you got a special present,” I say, dipping my chin to try and get him to look at me. 

I can’t decide whether to call Jackson by his name to Theo, or to say ‘your daddy.’ I want to go with the latter, but I don’t want to force something on my son so suddenly. He’s six years old. I’m not sure what about this he understands and what he doesn’t. I want to get him home so we can have a detailed discussion about it. I hadn’t planned on seeing Jackson again before that could happen, which is part of why I’m so caught off-guard.

I’m used to planning Theo’s life by my standards. I’ve raised him as a single mother for six years, so having someone else come into play is jarring and a bit unsettling. It feels like I’m losing a bit of the control that’s kept us stable for all this time. 

“Jackson brought you something, baby,” I say, testing out how it sounds.

Something I can’t identify flashes across Jackson’s eyes. He hands the plush over, hoping Theo will take it, but his face stays tucked away, refusing to look out. 

“Thought you might like this, Theo,” Jackson says. I can tell by his tone that he’s trying so, so hard. “Made me think of you.”  

I look at the little plush, then sandwich it under my armpit. “Thank you,” I say, nodding. “That was really sweet.”

He half-grimaces-half-smiles, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched by his ears. I can tell he feels awkward; I do, too. This isn’t a comfortable situation by any means. 

“Do you wanna walk out with us?” I ask. 

We took the bus here. I don’t have a car; that’s the good thing about Chicago. Public transportation is a lot cheaper than owning a vehicle and it gets us everywhere we need to go. Theo is already a pro at the CTA at six years old; it’s something he prides himself in. 

“Yeah,” Jackson says.

“Okay,” I say, then pull Theo’s limbs off of me. “We gotta get coats on, buddy,” I say. “Can you zip up for me?”

I hand him his army-green coat while I put mine on, and he struggles with the zipper at the bottom. It isn’t the greatest quality and it catches on the fabric, but he’s always determined to try. Seeing his struggle, though, Jackson takes a few steps forward and puts his hands on the zipper, pulling it away from the side where it’d been caught. 

I watch Theo’s face; eyes wide with alarm, mouth fallen slightly open as he moves his hands away from where Jackson’s work. His father zips him up to the chin then smiles at him, saying, “There you go.” 

“What do we say?” I ask, throwing my purse over my shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Theo peeps, unable to make eye contact. 

“Anytime,” Jackson answers.

I hoist Theo onto my hip and lead the way out of the hospital room, down the familiar hallways to get to the elevator. Once we’re on the main floor headed towards the glass doors, I notice a swarm of people just outside, peering in. 

“Shit,” Jackson curses under his breath. “Shit.” 

“Who are those people?"

He stops dead in his tracks, so I follow suit. Theo looks up with wonder, peering over his shoulder to see what the commotion is about. 

“Why did we stop, mommy?” 

“Photographers,” Jackson says. “They must have found out I was here. I…” He rubs his temples with one hand, between his thumb and first finger. “Goddamn it.” 

“Mommy,” Theo mutters.

“I know,” I say. In our house, we don’t curse.

“Here,” Jackson says. “I can call my security and have them bring a car to a different exit. We can avoid these guys, it won’t be too hard.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Oh, no,” I say. “We took the bus. The stop’s right outside.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not gonna walk through all those people, April.” 

I scoff. “It’s not me they want the pictures of,” I say. 

“I don’t care,” he says. “They can get rough, no matter if you’re the target or not. I don’t want you, or-or him… out there with them.” 

I open my mouth to respond, prepared to refute him. I don’t appreciate the coddling - I’ve taken care of myself and sustained another life for over six years. I can protect our son fine on my own. I’m not some dependent little creature he has to take care of. That was never me. 

But then, the photographers catch sight of Jackson and start knocking on the glass. The flashes go off like crazy, partnered with manic shouts that all blend together. Choruses of his name as they try to get the attention of the famous father of my son. 

“Mommy, I don’t like that,” Theo whimpers, holding on tighter. He’s a quiet, introverted child with a tendency for shyness. Loud noises and ruckus upsets him, it always has. “I really don’t like that!” He’s crying now. 

“Okay,” I murmur, one hand on the back of Theo’s head as I look at Jackson urgently. “We’ll go. Take us to your car.” I pause for a short moment. “Please.” 

He makes a call that I can’t hear and we find our way to a different exit of the hospital. We move quickly, assuming the photographers will get the same idea, and I hold my son securely as I power-walk to keep up with his father. 

“It’s there waiting for us,” he says. 

“Just like that,” I say, not quite loud enough for him to hear. He has the world at the palm of his hands. With one phone call, there’s someone waiting to serve him. I have never, and will never, know what that feels like.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” 

We make it to the car. It’s parked right outside a side door, long and black. The driver comes to open the back door and the three of us slide in, Theo and me first. 

When the door shuts behind us, the silence is nearly deafening. I keep Theo on my lap, his face still buried in my hair, and avoid Jackson’s eyes. I don’t know why, but I feel like I have to. I’m finding it so hard to look at him. 

I can’t help but feel like a second-class citizen in comparison. This life he lives is nothing like the one I know, or anything I’ve ever known, for that matter. The clothes I’m wearing are two or three years old, never mind the shoes. Theo’s jacket is from Goodwill. He goes to a public school, hasn’t had a haircut in way too long. 

I feel like we’re under scrutiny because of Jackson’s high-falutin lifestyle. I feel with everything we do and say, with the way we look, he’s judging us. 

“Um, your address,” he says, breaking the thick silence. 

I give it to him and he passes it to the driver; before long, we’re on Lakeshore Drive headed north towards the Lawrence exit. It isn’t the best part of town, but I’m not rolling in money. Mine and Theo’s apartment is home; it’s cozy and nice, it’s all he knows. Our neighborhood isn’t great, but I’ve learned what parts to frequent and what parts to stay away from. 

The car slows in front of our building, brick-faced and three floors tall. We live at the top; I can see our little balcony when I look up. 

“Thanks for the ride,” I say, opening the door and helping Theo out. He’s walking on his own now, back in an environment he knows. 

Jackson stands up halfway like he plans on exiting, too. I see an expectant look in his eyes, like maybe he wants me to invite him upstairs. I don’t exactly hate the idea, but something keeps me from opening my mouth and acting on it. 

“Give me a call… if you want,” I say, taking Theo’s hand and directing him to stand on the curb. 

“Thanks,” Jackson says, a bit dejectedly. “I will.” 

“Okay,” I say, taking a step backwards. “Um… goodbye.”

“I’m in town for a couple weeks still,” he says, eagerly. 

“Okay,” I say again. “Good to know. Thank you again.” 

Once we get inside, Theo scampers up the stairs like always and beats me to our door, waiting in front until I come with the key. When we get inside, he charges down the hallway and bursts into his room, landing on his bed with a flying leap. 

“My bed!” he cheers triumphantly.

I smile at his silliness. “Glad to be home?” I ask, walking down the long hallway to the kitchen, where I set my purse on the counter.

“So, so, so, so glad!” he shouts, still from his room.

The house feels dusty and stagnant as it’s sat empty for a few days, so I spend some time cleaning while Theo works on arts and crafts in his room. I put on a pair of leggings and a ratty old t-shirt, turning on music that we both love - Maroon 5. 

Around lunchtime, I finish cleaning and go to Theo’s room with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for either of us. 

“Hungry?” I ask, leaning on his doorframe.

He looks up where he lies on his belly on the hardwood floor, paper and crayons surrounding him. 

“You’ve been hard at work,” I say, stepping inside, careful not to crunch anything under my feet. “Can I see?” 

He sits up and I join him on the floor, cross-legged. I take a bite of my sandwich and he lifts up a piece of printer paper with three painstakingly-drawn figures on it; one wearing a navy blue and white football uniform, complete with the helmet and all. The footballer is to the right, and in the middle there’s a smaller figure also drawn with brown crayon, then a peach-colored one to the left with flaming red hair. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he’s drawn, but I ask him to explain anyway. 

“What did you make?”

He sets it flat on the floor again, holding his sandwich with one hand while pointing with the other. “My family,” he says. “See, there’s me in my favorite yellow shirt with the buttons. And there’s you with your crazy red hair. I didn’t draw your glasses, since you only wear them at night. And that’s my daddy.” 

I chew the inside of my cheek as I study his picture. He’s been working for a while, having obviously put a lot of love and care into crafting this. 

“It’s beautiful,” I say. “You made Jackson’s uniform really accurate. How did you remember it so good?” 

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “Jackson is Daddy, right?” 

“Yes,” I say. “They’re the same person.” I sigh. “Can I be honest with you for just a sec, baby? I can’t really decide between calling him by his name, or calling him your dad. Do you have one you like better?” 

“He’s my daddy,” Theo says. “We should call him my daddy.”

I smile to myself, just a little. “Okay,” I say. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” 

…

The day turns into the night, and Theo and I order a pizza and watch Netflix together on the couch. He leans against my side, giggling at the parts of Cars that he always giggles at, until he’s done eating and looks at me wearing a pointed expression. 

“My middle name is Jackson,” Theo says. “Like him.” 

“You’re right,” I say. 

He’s always known his father’s name, but he must be putting this together for the first time. 

“Am I more like you, or him, mommy?” 

His question comes as a surprise, though I’m not sure why. I should have expected this, or something like it, after everything that’s happened. 

“You’re like both of us in a lot of ways,” I say, swallowing hard. I set my pizza down. Suddenly, I’m not hungry anymore. 

“Like how?” 

“Well…” I say. “You look just like him.” 

“Because I have brown skin. And so does he!” 

It cracks my heart a little bit to hear Theo say it like that. I always wanted him to have a black male role model growing up, but I couldn’t give him one. I knew I was robbing him of something by taking that away. He couldn’t look around and see someone in his own household who looks like him. We don’t use the same hair products or lotions. When he was little, I had so many questions about his hair and skin, but no one to answer them. Google was my crutch back then. Has he been feeling ostracized from me this whole time?

But then, I wonder if I’m reading too much into it. 

“Yes,” I say. “And I love your beautiful brown skin. You know that.” I smile, and so does he. It makes me feel a little better. “But it’s more than that. Your eyes, for one thing. You both have these magical, light-up green eyes. I can read your every thought in them, I swear I can. And I always could do that with him, too. When he was sad, I would know. Even if he was smiling.” 

“Smiling when he’s sad?”

I make a small sound, my shoulders bouncing once. “It’s something your daddy did a lot,” I say. “He wasn’t the best at talking about his feelings. He used to pretend to be happy, even if he wasn’t. Just so other people wouldn’t worry.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know,” I say. 

“I talk about my feelings.”

“Yes, you do,” I say. “You’re very good at that.”

“Sometimes, I cry.” 

“And that’s okay, too.”

“Does my daddy ever cry?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Remember, I haven’t seen him in a very long time.” 

“Since before I came out of your tummy.” 

“Right.” 

“Did he cry when you still knowed him?”

I take a moment to breathe. I recall back to the four years I knew Jackson and the two years I spent loving him. I never once saw him cry. 

“I’m sure he did,” I say. “But I just never saw it.” 

“You say it’s okay for boys to cry.” 

“That’s true,” I say. “It is.” 

Theo pauses for a moment, resting a flat hand on my thigh. I look down at it, how tiny it is, and try to sear the image in my head. I know I’ll miss it when he’s a big, burly teenager who doesn’t hug his mother anymore. The thought is frightening - I shove it out of my mind as quickly as it came. 

“What’s his favorite food?” he asks.

I smile to myself and squeeze him tighter. “Pizza,” I say. “Your daddy used to love, love, love pizza. I’m sure he still does.” 

“We have pizza!” he giggles. “And I love pizza.” 

“I guess now we know why.” 

He holds his crust up to my mouth and I take a big bite of it. “Or because  _ you _ love pizza, mommy,” he says, laughing. “Where does he live?” Theo asks. “In Chicago? In our city?”

“No,” I say, stroking his arm. “I’m pretty sure he lives in Washington somewhere. I don’t have an exact answer for you on that one.” 

“Seattle is in Washington. That’s where his team is where he plays football,” he says. “That’s by the Pacific Ocean.” 

“Very good.” 

“Does he like swimming?” 

“I don’t know, honey.” 

“Maybe we could find out. I have my swimming lesson tomorrow, right, mommy? Can we ask Daddy to come with, like sometimes Aunt Addison comes with?” 

I study his face. He isn’t overly-eager or sickeningly-sweet. He’s asking because it’s something he wants, something that will make him feel good. I can’t bear to deny him. 

“I can call him and ask,” I say. “Let’s get you up to bed. I’ll call him later.” 

After Theo is tucked up tight in his racecar sheets, I kneel at his bedside and kiss his forehead.

“Did you say your prayers?” I ask. 

He nods, a cute smile on his face, gripping the edge of his sheets. 

“What’d you pray for?” 

“I can’t tell you, or it won’t come true,” he says, giggling. “Mommy, will you lay with me and tickle my arm?” 

“Sure,” I say, climbing up onto his small bed. He turns on his side and I press my lips to his curls, running my fingernails down the smooth skin of his arm. 

A few minutes later, after I think he’s asleep, he speaks again. “Mama,” he whispers. 

“Hmm."

“Can I love my dad?” 

I steady my gaze and stare at the back of my son’s head. Immediately, my eyes sting with the onset of tears. “Of course you can,” I say. “You can feel any way you want about him.”

“But if I love him, can I love you still?”

“You can love as many people as you want, teddy bear,” I say, clearing my throat in attempts not to cry. “There’s no limit. I love you more every day, you know that? Maybe tomorrow, I’ll love you even more.” 

“More than the moon?” he whispers, his little voice slurred with sleep.

“More than the moon,” I promise him.

He turns over to face me, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. “I love you, too, mama,” he says, then finally drifts off to sleep. 

…

The next day in the locker room, I’m getting Theo dressed in his swim trunks for his lesson. He’s buzzing with excitement and nerves about seeing Jackson, and so am I. But I’m keeping my feelings under wraps. 

“Hold still, wiggle worm,” I say, laughing as I tie the drawstring around his waist. 

“Are we done now, mommy? Can we go? Is he here?” 

I lug the swim bag onto my shoulder and push open the door. “He said he would be,” I say. 

“There he is!” 

Theo’s voice is excited, but he wraps himself around my leg as soon as he sees Jackson. His father is wearing a simple gray hoodie and jeans, but he’s never looked better. I can’t take my eyes off of him. 

“Hey, guys,” he says.

“Hi,” I say. “Theo, say hi.” 

“Hi,” he peeps. 

“Thanks for inviting me, little man,” Jackson says. “Means a lot. I haven’t been to a swimming lesson in years.” 

“Do you know how to swim?” Theo asks. 

“I do,” Jackson answers, matching our pace as we walk to the pool. “Not all that well, but I’m pretty sure I could save myself.” 

“I can hold my breath for 12 seconds underwater,” Theo says, voice still quiet. 

“That’s awesome,” Jackson says. 

“Want me to show you?” 

“I’d love that.” 

We make it to the pool, and Jackson and I sit on a bench on the side as Theo’s teacher helps him down the rungs of the ladder. 

“Watch!” he calls, before his lesson starts. He sinks under the water and I count on my fingers, showcasing a perfect twelve as he comes up. 

“That was awesome!” Jackson says, and his son beams. 

Throughout his lesson, I feel Theo’s eyes on us. “Thanks for making it,” I say to Jackson. 

“Thanks for inviting me,” he replies. “Really, I mean that. I… I wasn’t sure if you were going to give me a ring or not. It really means a lot that you did.”

I nod slowly. “I don’t want to keep him from you anymore.” 

“I appreciate that,” Jackson says, then turns to look at me. “Really, I do.” 

I nod again. “He was asking all about you last night,” I say. 

“He was?” 

I laugh softly. “Yeah. He was giving me the third degree. He also drew this picture…” I pull up the photo I took of it and show him. 

“His family,” Jackson says, a smile growing on his lips. “Will you send that to me?” 

“Sure.” 

“Mommy!” I hear. “Mommy, Jack-... Da-... Mommy, look!” 

Theo fumbles with his words, but we pretend not to notice as he shows us the new stroke he just learned how to do. We applaud him, and his teacher takes his attention again. 

“We have stuff we need to talk about,” Jackson says. 

“I know,” I say. 

“A lot of it.” 

“I realize.” 

“And it’s more than that,” he says. “I wanna catch up with you. Hear about your life. Hear about… everything, Peach.” 

I don’t correct the nickname this time. It’s second nature for him to say and for me to hear. It’s a warm blanket wrapped around my shoulders on a cold day. It’s home. 

“We’ll get time,” I say. “I promise.” 

After Theo is done with his lesson, I wrap a towel around his trembling shoulders. As we walk to the locker room, he looks up at Jackson and says, “We go to church school after swimming.” 

It’s true, we do. It almost slipped my mind because of the craziness as of late, but he’s right. We didn’t make it last week, so there’s no skipping. 

“That’s cool,” Jackson says. “Mind if I tag along?”

I look at him with surprise. Growing up, religion was hugely important to me. Less so as I hit my teenage years, but it was still a monumental part of my upbringing. I wanted to raise Theo knowing the basics. I don’t need us to be devout, but I want him to have a little bit of the same history I did. The good parts, at least. 

Jackson was never interested in it, mostly because of the aggressive way my parents ingrained it in my psyche. So, hearing him voluntarily offer to come along with us is startling. 

“Can he come, mama?” Theo asks. 

“If he wants,” I say. “Of course.” 

The church is warm and quiet when we walk in. Theo’s class is small, only with about six or seven other kids on a good day. 

“You can see my classroom,” Theo says, looking up at Jackson. I watch his hand move like he’s going to slip it into his father’s, but it retreats back to his side. “Can I show you?” 

“Sure,” Jackson says. “Lead the way, I’m right behind you.” 

I keep my distance as I watch them interact. From behind, the way they walk is so similar. I’ve never realized that.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Theo,” the church school teacher, Mrs. Peterson, says. “Who do you have with you today?” 

“This is my dad,” Theo answers, without hesitation. 

“Jackson,” Jackson says, extending his hand. “You mind if he shows me around?” 

“Not at all,” she says.

“This is the altar,” Theo says, urging Jackson along and showing him a miniature wooden altar. “You get out the chalice, the candles, and something else I forgot the name of. Then you touch your forehead, your chest, and your shoulders, and say this: the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Okay?” 

“Interesting.” 

“And we sing right here,” Theo says, pointing to a green rug. “But that’s at the end. I don’t think you can stay ‘til then. We pray right here, but I already know how to do that. Mommy taught me how to pray when I was a baby.” 

Jackson looks over his shoulder and catches my eye. His are glistening with emotion. 

“I’m gonna go now,” Theo says. “You can go with Mommy where everyone waits outside.” 

“Thanks for the tour,” Jackson says, and I can tell he wants to touch his son, but he doesn’t let himself. I want to tell him he can, that he should just do it, but I stay quiet.

…

At home that night, the three of us are sitting at the dining room table. It’s still surreal that Jackson is right here in front of me, in the same space as his son that I kept hidden for so long. I can barely wrap my head around it. 

“What’s your favorite movie ever?” Theo asks Jackson, having already asked seemingly hundreds of questions tonight. 

“Tough one,” Jackson says. “Probably a tie between Cars and The Lion King.” 

Theo gasps. “I watch Cars!” he says. “Mommy! He watches Cars, too!” 

“Imagine that!” I say, laughing with him. 

“Your favorite food is pizza,” Theo says, once his laughter dies down.

“Right on the nose,” Jackson says. “How’d you know?”

“Mama,” Theo says. “She told me last night. We had pizza then.” 

“And you didn’t save any for me? What kind of malarkey is that?” 

Theo cracks up again, his eyes pinched shut tight, mouth wide open with his head thrown back. Jackson smiles, marveling at him, and I marvel at the both of them. They are a perfect fit.

“Who’s your favoritest person ever ever?” he asks. 

Jackson taps his chin. “That’s an easy one,” he says. “I think I’m gonna have to say you.”

Theo makes a surprised sound. “But you just knowed me!” he says. “I only saw you a day ago!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jackson says, shaking his head. “That’s my final answer.” 

My heart feels like it might explode. 

“But your favorite person ever  _ used _ to be Mommy,” Theo says, looking back at me with twinkling eyes. 

A small pocket of silences passes as Jackson looks from his son to center his eyes on me. The look of love hasn’t faded - it’s now focused on a different person. Myself. 

“Yes,” he says, nodding. “Very much so.” 

My cheeks heat up and I try to hide my blush by looking away. I can’t handle that. 

“I think it’s time for little boys to get to bed,” I say, scooping Theo up. 

“Aw, mommy…” he whines. 

“I know, I know, you’re having fun,” I say. “But you can see your daddy again soon. Say goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” Theo says, and I walk towards the hall where his room is. He looks over my shoulder, arms wrapped tight, and says, “Goodnight, daddy.” 

After Theo is asleep, I go into the living room to find Jackson on the couch. Thoughts are rushing through my head at a thousand miles per hour, for some reason focusing on the paparazzi debacle yesterday. 

“Are those pictures going to be published?” I ask, coming up behind him. He follows me with his eyes as I sit down. “From yesterday at the hospital. Because if they got any with Theo’s face in them and they’re out for everyone to see, I’m really not okay with that. Can you do something?” 

“I’ll pay them off,” he says. “I won’t let that happen.” 

“Good,” I say. “Thank you. Because it’s really important for me to-” 

He cuts me off, twisting the ring on his finger I’d seen before. He says, “This is a promise ring.” 

I stop with my mouth open, my thoughts halted, too. “I… what?” I ask.

“A promise ring,” he says. “It’s not an engagement ring. It was… it is. It’s a promise I really thought I meant.” He clears his throat, lifting his eyes from the floor to rest on me. “But now, I don’t know what to think.” 


	4. Chapter 4

_ JACKSON _

When I saw April again after all those years, I felt the same way I did when I saw her for the last time.

I couldn’t have known it was the last time - I didn’t. But those same feelings of affection, adoration, and deep love all rose to the surface, just like any other time we spent together before she left. 

When I laid eyes on her for the first time in years, she’d been asleep. I had on my work persona, dressed sharply, smile painted, ready to make another sick kid’s day. 

But this sick kid sat up in bed, eyes wide as saucers, and stared at me like I had three heads. There was a redhead next to him, and in that split second I had no idea it was my redhead. 

Then he said the word - that word, the one still sticking in my brain now. 

_ Daddy? _

And my world caved in on itself. April opened her eyes and I knew it was her, there was no questioning. And there was no questioning the fact that our son was sitting next to her - his eyes said it all. They were mine, with the kindness from hers layered in. He was soft, it barely took any time to see that. 

He was hers, ours. 

**_MOLINE, OHIO, 7 YEARS AGO_ **

It’s the middle of summer. I invited April to come swimming at the local pool because it’s one of her favorite things to do when it’s hot, but she turned me down. Lately, she keeps turning down the chance to spend time together. I don’t understand why she’s pushing me away when all I want to do is soak up every minute with her. 

On the phone, she told me she was sick. It’s in my nature to take care of her, but I know it won’t be easy with that her family doesn’t know we’re dating, let alone allow boys in the house. 

“Do you want to come over?” I ask, lingering on my front porch. It’s the first free day I’ve had in a while, and I want to spend it with her. I miss her. She’s changed; become more withdrawn and sullen. I barely recognize her anymore. And every time I ask what’s wrong, she brushes me off and seemingly gets sadder, so I’ve stopped asking. 

But today, she agreed to come see me. I get my bedroom ready with her favorite movies, blankets and soft pillows, and her favorite hoodie of mine. She keeps it at my house because her parents do regular room checks at hers, and if they found it, it’d be the end of us. 

When I open the door, I see tear-stains on her cheeks. It’s obvious she’s been crying. 

“Hi, baby,” I say, ushering her inside. My house is cool from the air conditioning, which I’m thankful for because she has sweat beads on her temples and forehead. I lean forward and kiss them away, pressing my lips softly to her skin. 

“I’m sweaty,” she says, turning away. 

I notice the outfit she’s wearing - shorts and flip-flops, but with a long-sleeved, billowy shirt on top. I don’t say anything in regards to it - she’s been touchy about her outfit choices lately - I’ve learned that the hard way. 

“I don’t care,” I say. “I like your sweat.” 

She sniffles. “Makes one of us.” 

I smile, wrapping my arms around her shoulders in a big hug. She tenses under my touch, which bothers me. She always used to be so comfortable in my arms, and now it seems she’s anything but. I used to love the way she’d relax against me, giving herself up entirely, but she doesn’t do that anymore. 

I can’t help but wonder if it’s something I did. If it is, I’m glad to fix it. She just has to tell me, but she won’t. 

“Wanna go upstairs?” I ask.

“Jackson, I’m not in the mood,” she says. “I didn’t come here to-” 

“To watch movies,” I say, eyes defensively wide. “I set up the DVD player with snacks and blankets. What is up with you, Peach?” 

Her face flames. “Nothing,” she says. “Sorry.” 

I lead the way up the stairs and she takes her time behind me. I shut the door to my room after we’re inside, and she sits on the edge of the bed, as far away from me as possible. 

I put a movie in - Stepmom, which she loves - and sit down, too. 

“Do I smell bad, or something?” I ask, trying to keep the mood light. 

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m… I… just, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d…” 

“I always wanna be close to you,” I say, scooting to meet her in the middle. “You’re my girl.” 

She makes a small sound in her throat, then rests her head on my shoulder. When she does that, I feel more at ease. This feels normal, more like us. I hold her and keep her there, pressing kisses to the top of her head intermittently throughout the movie. She smells like roses and honey.

“Peachy,” I say, after we haven’t spoken for a while. “I love you. Are you okay?"

She nods slowly, tracing the creases of the fabric on my thigh. “I love you, too,” she whispers. 

Little did I know that would be the last time I’d see her, hold her, hear her voice, for almost a decade. 

**_CHICAGO, TWO DAYS AGO_ **

When I hear that little boy say ‘Daddy,’ everything else fades away. Loses importance. My career, my relationship, my malice and confusion towards his mother. All that matters to me in this moment is that there is a beautiful child looking at me, calling me daddy.

I am his father.

April asks me to leave, and I understand why. I waited six years, so I tell myself I can wait a few hours. But that proves harder than anticipated - when I go back to my hotel, everything is too quiet. I stare at her contact in my phone and wait for her to call. 

I assume she won’t until the sun goes down and that little boy goes to sleep. I still don’t know his name. I don’t know his name, but I saw myself in him. I saw her in him. He is us, combined. He is the purest stage of our love, embodied. We created him. 

I can barely sift through that thought. I created life with her. The love of my life, the girl who had once meant everything, put a new piece of my heart on this earth. 

She did it on her own, too. I never knew she was pregnant. I sit on a plush chair in my immaculate hotel room and feel confusion and frustration boil through me - I hadn’t known. She didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have missed so many years of my son’s life had she just told me and accepted the help I would’ve undoubtedly given her. 

I grit my teeth. I feel sick to my stomach; my world was just turned on its head. I never thought I would see her again, let alone be met with such a shake-up like this. She kept him from me. She ran away without a word. When I add up the timeline in my head, she must have gotten pregnant months before the summer she left. How had I not noticed? How had she hidden it so well? Why didn’t she let me in? 

Through my irritation and anger, though, there’s a sort of reverence. April had a baby on her own and raised him as a single mom - or so I assume. There was no male figure in the hospital room and no ring on her finger, so that’s where my mind jumped. She saw this little boy through all his stages, provided for the two of them, by herself. There’s a certain strength in that, a kind I will never amount to. 

I saw it in her eyes. She now has the ferocity of a mother. 

As I sit there, staring out the window, fear ripples through me. I never had a father figure growing up and I still don’t. What do I know about being a parent to a little boy? Next to nothing. I don’t spend much time around kids, only if they want me to sign a football or something like that. My life is full of adults at my beck and call. I never thought I’d be at the mercy of a child - not at this stage of my life, at least. 

I don’t know the first thing about them, and April is, without a doubt, an expert on her son. Our son. It’ll take some getting used to, calling him ‘our son.’ 

I have a son. I have a beautiful son, with mahogany skin and light eyes, wild curls and his mother’s perfect bow-shaped lips. He is a gift. I’ve been given a gift. 

My phone rings, and I jump at the sound. I hurry over to where I left it, expecting April’s name on the screen. But instead, it reads: Steph Edwards.

I let it ring a few more times, debating whether or not to pick up, but end up swiping along the bottom of the screen to answer. 

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey, babe,” she replies, sounding cheery. “How’s the Windy City?” 

I look out the window. I can see the lake not far into the distance, the sky cloudy and gray above it. It’s winter in the midwest - not exactly pleasant or pretty.

“Fine,” I say. “It’s nice. I like it here.”

There’s no way I’m going to open my mouth about what happened earlier, not over the phone. That’s a much deeper, more involved conversation that we’ll inevitably have, but not now. Steph doesn’t even know April once existed. She is a part of my life and heart that I kept completely to myself, almost to preserve the memory. I had to preserve it, because I never thought I’d get her back. 

“That’s good,” Steph says. “I miss you.” 

“Miss you, too,” I mumble, standing in front of the window while still staring out. 

“You okay?” she asks. “You sound distracted.” 

“I… am,” I say, and that’s not a lie. “A lot on my mind. Been traveling for a long time. It puts me in a funk.”

In all honesty, I don’t mind traveling all that much. It isn’t a big deal, and I like meeting fans and getting to talk with them. But now, Chicago feels like much more than a travel destination. It feels like I’ll be here for a good amount of time. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” she says. “Anything I can do? I wish you were home. It’s been so long.” 

“I know,” I say. “Soon.” 

There’s a long, strained pause between us where the only sound is the phone crackling. Then, Steph clears her throat uncomfortably and speaks again. 

“Do you wanna Skype?” she asks. “I could do that thing you like.”

I wait too long to answer. My mind is elsewhere. “No,” I finally say. “That’s… that’s okay. Thank you though. Listen, I gotta go. My… Reggie is calling me. I gotta be somewhere for dinner, or something. I’ll talk to you soon.” 

“Okay,” she says, sounding dejected. “I love you, Jackson.” 

“Love you, too,” I say, then hang up. 

I sit back down in the chair and my chest feels heavy. That was wrong, all wrong. I shouldn’t have even picked up, because now she can tell something is off and will be on me about it for days. 

Steph and I started dating a year ago. I gave her a promise ring, wearing one myself, about two months ago. Our lives are too busy to get engaged right now, but it’s basically a promise that we will get engaged in the future. I stare at the ring now and my heart feels heavy.

This is a lot to take in. 

**_MOLINE, OHIO, 7 YEARS AGO_ **

I wake up around 10am with the sun streaming in through my slatted blinds. I squint against it, rolling onto my other side to face the wall, and sigh deeply. I technically don’t have to be up at any specific time, so I stay where I am and reach with my eyes closed for something I know is nearby.

When my hand finds the soft fabric, I lift it to my face and breathe in. It smells just like her, this little pink hoodie, which is why I keep it in my bed. She can’t keep my clothes at her house, but I can keep hers at mine. And since we’ve been spending such little time around one another this summer, I’ve started to use this Abercrombie zip-up as a crutch of some sort.

It’s a little pathetic. But I have no one to impress at the moment, so I let myself smell it and get lost in my girlfriend. 

I roll over onto my back, the sweatshirt balled up by my shoulder, and think about her. I picture her face, her flowing red hair, that 100-watt smile, and miss the hell out of her. I want to see her today, that’s for sure. I’ll make it happen. 

I haven’t touched her, like really touched her, in what seems like forever. I squint and try to remember the last time we had sex. It was before it got hot, I know that. Which was a damn long time ago - we’re overdue. I’ll take her to her favorite spot today, down by the private lake, and make her feel good. She’s been in such a weird mood lately, maybe it’ll put her back to center. 

I think about the smooth dip from her ribcage to her hips, the swell of the undersides of her breasts, the poke of her ribs through her skin. I picture her pink lips, the freckles on the bridge of her nose, her dimples when I make her laugh. I can always make her laugh, no matter what. At least, I used to be able to. Lately, she hasn’t even been cracking a smile at my stupid jokes. 

I think about her legs, tiny and lithe. I remember the way her thighs feel locked around my head, my tongue lapping at the most intimate part of her. I can practically hear all the sounds she makes, she’s so damn vocal, and I need her in this bed next to me. 

I reach for my lotion and slip my hand inside the front of my shorts. Unabashedly, I stroke myself to thoughts of my girlfriend and come with a muffled grunt, my face pressed into her sweatshirt. 

God, I’m sad. I miss her like hell, and we don’t even live a mile apart. 

I get out of bed and into the shower, washing off what I just did, then get dressed to head outside. I don’t have a specific destination in mind, but I know where I’ll end up. Around the side of April’s house, tapping on her window. And, following my earlier idea, I’ll take her to the lake. 

But something stops me as I walk out the front door. A piece of paper, on the porch below my feet, right on the welcome mat. I frown, kneel to pick it up, and have to lean back against the house so I don’t collapse. 

 

_ Dear Jackson, _ __   
__   
_ I’m sorry for leaving you, but I had go. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and none of them should involve you. You’re meant for great things. I never wanted to keep you from those things. I hope you understand that’s why I have to go. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. And I’ll never stop. But I don’t want you to come looking for me. This is what I want. I need to get away from here and start fresh. I can’t tell you why. I just need you to forget about me. Just know that I loved you enough to let you go. I need you to do the same. _ __   
__   
_ You’ll always be in my heart. _ __   
_   
_ __ -Peach

 

I read it again. And again, and again, and again. The words stop making sense, running together in a language I don’t speak. She left me? She’s gone? I flip the letter over, hoping for something that tells me this is all a cruel joke. But there’s nothing. 

One paragraph to sum up four years of friendship, four years of devotion - two years I spent knowing she was the big love of my life. A half sheet of paper, ripped carefully at the top. I hold it tight between my hands and realize I’m shaking, unable to move from where I stand on the porch. 

How can this be happening? What did I do wrong? Where did she go? 

I rush back inside and dial her number, hoping to catch her before she does anything rash. It goes straight to voicemail, so I leave her one. 

“April, what are you doing?” I say. “Come back. I don’t know what’s wrong, but whatever it is, we can fix it. I can fix it. Baby, please… please, listen to me. Come back. I don’t… I don’t know what to do, please come back.” 

I hang up the phone and stare at the screen. I call 13 more times, getting the same result with each dial. Her phone is shut off. 

I leave my house, then, and go to the Kepners’. I knock on the front door with purpose, something I’ve never done, and her mother answers with red, bloodshot eyes. 

“Can I help you?” she says. Over her shoulder, I see April’s sisters gathered around a big wooden table with their father, sniffling too. 

“Did you get a letter?” I ask, the words tumbling from my mouth.

“What?” Karen whimpers. “Who are you?"

“I’m Jackson,” I say. I debate on telling them the whole truth, because I’m not sure what more there is to lose at this point. But because of my solidarity with their daughter, I say, “I’m April’s best friend. I got a letter, too.” 

I don’t let them see it, but they trust me. We search for her together, we call her phone, we do everything in our power. But she’s of legal age, so that’s not much. We know she’s okay - she said so herself. That isn’t much of a comfort, but I’m powerless. We all are.

It infuriates me how easily they give up. They send me away on the fifth day I show up, saying that if she was meant to be found, the Lord would have shown the way by now. She’s strayed. Permanently.

I’m forced to leave my hometown without the person that made it home. On the plane to Alabama, I stare out the window at the shrinking landscape and wonder where she could be. She’s out there somewhere, I know it. 

But the world is wide. And she’s lost.

…

While at college, I retreat into my head. This was supposed to be a fun and liberating time in my life, not one where I sink into a depression not two days after it starts. April is supposed to be here, too. We were supposed to take this next step in growing up together, but I’m alone. Alone, with hundreds of people surrounding me. 

My roommate invites me to a party and I get blackout drunk. I can’t remember a single thing that happens that night, but I miss football practice the next morning. I call April’s phone, but it doesn’t even ring this time. It says the number has been disconnected. 

“Fuck you!” I shout, coming to grips with the fact that I’m probably still drunk, not hungover at all. “Fuck you for disappearing!” 

I lay there and stare at the ceiling as it spins. In that moment, I hate her for everything she’s done. I hate her for disappearing, I hate her for leaving me with just a stupid fucking note, and most of all I hate that I still love her. 

“Selfish,” I mutter, rolling over. “Fucking selfish. I thought you loved me!” 

I know I’m being ridiculous, but I can’t stop. I punch my mattress over and over, baring my teeth at the thought of her alone somewhere, thinking she can just up and leave her life and everyone in it. 

“Who does that?!” I shout, then jump at the sound of my dorm room door coming open.

“Uh… everything okay, dude?” my roommate asks. 

“M’fine,” I grunt, and try to go back to sleep. 

It works. I sleep for days on end, barely getting out of bed. Just when I have to go to the bathroom. I hardly eat, I don’t shower, I don’t attend practices, and I definitely don’t pick up the phone. 

April has a special ringtone. If she calls, I’ll know. Everyone else can fuck off. 

She can fuck off, too. But that’s not to say I wouldn’t answer her call. 

Time stops existing. Classes might have started, but they might not have. I lose track of what day it is and how many pass. I can barely judge how fast the hours go because I keep our blinds drawn - my roommate doesn’t object. He doesn’t spend much time in the room. I think he’s a little scared of me. 

But I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. I feel like my heart was ripped out and stomped on, left to fester on the ground. When I close my eyes, I can’t fall asleep anymore. All I do is lie there, thinking. Thinking about her, worrying about her, hating her, loving her. 

Missing her. 

Because of my escape into my own head, I don’t know how long it takes for my mother to show up. But she does, and she shows up loud. 

“Jackson Michael Avery!” I hear, along with manic banging on the door. “Let me in right now, or I will knock this door down.” 

I open my eyes slowly, wondering if I could be hallucinating. 

“I said, I’m going to knock it down!” 

“I’m coming,” I gripe, crawling out of bed and smelling myself as I walk to let her in. 

When I open the door, her face pinches in disgust. “Dear Lord in heaven, you are not my son.” She looks me up and down. “My son would never… who are you? What are you doing, Jackson? What has gotten into you? Do I need to call a damn priest?” 

“Mom, why are you here?” 

“I am  _ here _ ,” she says. “Because I got a call from your coach. You’re 18 years old, Jackson, and I got a call from your coach. Because you haven’t been showing up to practices. You haven’t been answering your phone. In fact, you haven’t shown your face in a single class yet, and it is week 3, young man.” 

Damn, three weeks have passed. I had no idea. 

“And I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you better get to talkin’ quick. Because I’m not here to hold your hand. I’m here to smack you silly if you think you’re going to lie around and cry over a girl instead of use your scholarship.”

I blink hard. A girl. She knows. 

“That’s right,” she says. “You must think I’m blind, son. You thought you could hide your relationship with April from me for two years? Open your eyes, Jackson. Because mine were wide open. I saw it all. I know you were in love with her. I’m fully aware of that. And she left you.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“The whole town knows, honey,” she says. The term of endearment isn’t soft, it’s more condescending than anything. She’s not here to coddle me. “But it’s time you let her go. If she let you go like that, there’s no use holding onto her. She’s not coming back.” 

I’m quiet, eyes directed towards the floor. 

“I’m sorry she broke your heart, I truly am. You don’t deserve to feel like that. But I’ll only allow so much wallowing, and you’ve hit your limit. If you don’t get your ass out of this bed and get to the next practice, I’m shipping you back home and you can go to community college while still living under my roof. Paying rent. I won’t see you like this. If I have to beat this out of you, I will.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, nodding slightly. 

“Thank you,” she says. “And you’ll thank me later. Trust me on that.” 

**_MOLINE, OHIO, 8.5 YEARS AGO_ **

It’s my birthday, but the day has long since ended. I’m sitting on my bed, rifling through the cards I got, when I hear a small tap on my windowpane. 

I don’t pay it any mind, only glancing up for a second before going back to reading. But then, I hear it again. And again. 

I get up, setting the cards on my desk, and open it. It’s a warm August night, and the air is thick. But not thick enough to where I can’t hear her voice.

“Down here,” April whispers. 

I follow the sound. She’s standing by the trellis, wearing a pair of teal athletic shorts and a gray t-shirt. Her hair is up in a bun and she’s holding something in her hands I can’t quite make out. 

My heart beats faster at just the sight of her. I can’t help the smile that grows on my face, either. We started dating six months ago, in February. Now, we’re exclusive, but barely anyone knows. So, maybe not exclusive publicly. But we are to each other.

“What are you doing?” I call. 

“Can I come up?” she asks, shifting her weight from foot to foot. 

“Sure,” I say. “I can come and open the-” 

But before I finish my sentence, she starts scaling the trellis and makes it to my window in seconds flat. And that’s climbing one-handed, too, because when she gets closer I see what she’s holding in her hand is a single chocolate cupcake. 

“Happy birthday,” she says, half her body hanging inside my window as she gives me a chaste kiss. 

“Get in here,” I say, steadying her. 

She giggles as she tumbles in, pulling her shoes off as she goes to sit on my bed. She hands me the cupcake and I join her as she adjusts to lie with her head on my thigh, knees bent towards the ceiling.

“Thank you for this,” I say. “You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t want you to think I forgot,” she says. “It’s my boyfriend’s birthday. What kind of horrible girlfriend would I be if I didn’t bake him something?”

“You already got me that framed picture,” I say. 

“I know,” she says, smiling up at me. “But I like to spoil you.” 

“Good thing I like it when you spoil me, too,” I say, swiping some of the frosting off with my pointer finger before dipping it between her lips. 

Her tongue swirls around the tip, getting every last bit, and she closes her eyes. 

“Mm,” she says. “Gotta say, I’m an expert baker.” 

I twitch in my pants, but I don’t do anything to stop it. “Here,” I say. “Have some more.” 

I take another bit of frosting off and offer it to her, and she does the same thing. She lets her eyes flutter closed again as she grips my wrist with one hand, then I substitute my finger with my lips and give her a long, slow kiss. 

“Happy birthday,” she says again, then grabs at my face to bring me down for a second kiss. 

I set the half-eaten cupcake to the side and smile against her mouth and the weird angle we’re at. She notices, too, so she sits up and repositions so her head is on my pillow and her body is open and waiting for me to cover it. 

And when I do, it’s heavenly. I feel her every curve, every muscle, every breath. We’ve made out before, but it doesn’t get old. I love feeling her body under me, feeling what I can do to her. 

We’ve gotten to second base before, but that’s it. I want to know how far we’ll get tonight - judging by the look in her eyes, all bets are off. 

She wraps her arms around me as we kiss, one leg threading through both of mine. Her tongue darts from between her lips and traces the seam of mine, and I welcome it hungrily. She massages my tongue with hers, letting out little breathy moans as she does, and I’m definitely on my way to being completely hard. 

I trail one hand up her side, my thumb at the underwire of her bra as I open my mouth wide and kiss her greedily. She lets her arms rest behind my neck, pushing weight forward, and I subtly rub myself against her thigh. 

“Oh…” she whimpers softly, gasping when I move my hand to cup her breast. 

“Yeah?” I ask, making sure. 

“Yeah,” she says, glancing down at where I’m grabbing her. 

April is my first serious girlfriend. I’ve had frivolous ‘relationships’ before, in middle school and early high school, but I’ve never touched another girl like this. We’re each other’s firsts for everything. And I think there’s something extra special about that. 

When her shirt comes off, I can see her peach fuzz standing on end. I kiss the open plane of her chest, dragging my lips over the cups of her bra as she trembles below me, thighs clenched tight. 

“Do you know how to take it off?” she asks, voice wavering. 

“I can figure it out,” I say. “Do you want me to?” 

“Do you want to see them?” 

I haven’t yet. I’ve gotten handsy with her plenty of times over her shirt, over her bra, but I’ve never seen her bare breasts. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it. All the time. 

“Yes,” I answer. 

She sits up and I wind my hands behind her back. I fiddle with the tiny clasp, my fingers fumbling and unused to the action. She looks up at me after a few awkward, too-long beats have gone by, and smirks. 

“Stop laughing,” I say. “I’ve never done one before.” 

“Then let me,” she says, and reaches around to undo it herself. When it’s done, she shakes it off and holds up the strap to show me where the clasps are. “See the tiny hooks? You just have to undo them from each other. And it comes apart.” 

I nod, but I’m not at all listening to her lesson. Instead, my eyes are on her small, pert breasts, her light pink nipples. I notice a freckle on the right one and know that I need, more than anything else, to get my mouth on it. 

I lick my lips involuntarily, and she stares at me stare at her. 

“Can I…” I stutter, barely able to form words. 

I’m hard as hell in my pants right now. I’ve never seen breasts in real life before. I’ve seen plenty in porn, but those are all fake and too-big, too perfectly shaped so they look unnatural. April’s aren’t like that. They’re not very big at all, a bit triangular in shape, with a light blue vein running through the middle of her chest. They’re unique. They’re all her. And she’s showing them to me, with purpose. 

“I wanna suck on them really bad,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I have much of a say in the matter. 

She covers her face with one hand, most likely to hide her blush. When she comes back, she’s giggling with a red tint to her skin. “You can,” she says. “That’s why I…” She nods, looking down at them, too. “You can.” 

“Thank god,” I say, cupping one in my hand before covering with my mouth. She tastes so sweet and her skin is so smooth, that is until I reach the pebbled part of her areola. I run my tongue over the bumps and she inhales shakily, then holds her breath when I circle her hard nipple with the tip. 

“Oh, gosh,” she moans, and I feel one of her palms on the back of my head. “Oh, my…” 

With my mouth still on her, I sneak one hand down her torso and sandwich it between her legs. Over the material of her teal running shorts, I start rubbing the heel of my palm against her. Her hips lift to meet me, stroke for stroke. 

I don’t mean to make her come. But, not long after I start, her breath catches in her throat and her body shudders with my mouth on her breast and my hand between her thighs. 

When she starts breathing again, a long moan comes out of her and she whispers, “Oh, my god.” 

She pulls my face up from her chest and holds it between her hands as she kisses me hungrily, dragging my bottom lip between her teeth to worry it with her own. 

“I wanna have sex with you,” she says, voice strong and sure, yet quiet. “Can we?” 

I’m taken aback. I widen my eyes, pausing for a moment to make sure I heard her right. “You wanna sleep with me?” I ask. 

“Yes,” she says, tracing the shape of my lower lip with her finger. “Do you want to?” 

“Of course I do,” I say. “I just… you’re a virgin, I wanna make sure you’re ready.”

She snorts. “You’re a virgin, too,” she says. 

“Yeah,” I say, called out. “But you… you know, God and everything.”

“He has bigger things to worry about,” she whispers, lifting my shirt over my head as I sit up. 

When I sink inside of her, all my worries and cares drift away like I never had any to begin with. She’s warm and tight, wet and welcoming, as my hips snap once and I bury myself all the way in. 

I can barely handle the feeling. I always knew sex would feel amazing, but I didn’t know it would be like this. This feels like I’m on another planet, in another universe. I don’t even think my brain is in my head right now, she feels so damn good. 

“Are you - okay,” I manage to say, knowing it probably doesn’t feel as euphoric to her. I get to be inside her, but she has to get used to a foreign object in there. It has to be weird, at least at first. 

But she nods, biting her lower lip and holding on tight to my biceps. “Keep going,” she says.

I come way too fast. Embarrassingly fast. And she doesn’t come at all. I feel a little humiliated once I pull out and she’s left lying there unsatisfied, so as I tie the condom off I try to think of what to do. In some of the porn I watch, I see guys going down on girls and they seem to really like that. But I’d have no idea where to start. What if I’m bad, and she has to pretend, or something? That’d be mortifying. 

“You didn’t…” I say.

“Yeah,” she says. “But I don’t mind. I did once, so we’re kinda even.” 

My eyes dart between her legs, where I didn’t get much of a chance to look before. Her knees are pressed together now, but I can still see a small thatch of hair there. I want to make her feel good, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or look like an idiot. I don’t want her to remember her first time being shit. And I feel like I control that. 

“Do you… uh…” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Do you want me to try uh, going down on you?” 

She looks confused. “What?” 

My eyes flit to her vagina, still hidden. “Like… head,” I say. 

“What about…?” she asks. “I don’t really know what you’re saying, Jackson.” 

I sigh, long but quiet. “Oral, Peach,” I say. “My mouth on you… I kinda wanna try.” 

Her eyes widen. “You know how to do that? Isn’t it gross?” 

I shake my head. “No, I don’t know how, really…” I say. “But I see it in the…” I clear my throat. “Videos I’ve… watched, and it looks like girls really like it.” I can’t seem to look her in the face. “And no, it’s not gross. It’s you.” I look up finally and meet her eyes. “I wanna taste you.” 

“Are you sure?” she asks, elbows bent so her arms fold in the middle of her chest. 

I nod, gently prying her knees apart so I can settle between them. I’m just as nervous as she is, but for totally different reasons. I really don’t want to mess this up and look like an ass in front of her. I want to seem like I know what I’m doing, at least a little bit. If I make a fool out of myself, I don’t know if I’ll be able to look her in the eyes ever again. 

I tell myself to just go for it. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll tell me. And we can pretend this never happened.

I run my fingers through the patch of hair and she twitches, craning her neck to see what I’m doing. We make eye contact and I stroke her outer lips with my fingers, coaxing one thigh out further with the other hand. While still touching her, I press my lips to her leg and move inwards, boosting myself with confidence once I get to the apex. 

When I cover her with my mouth, I’m surprised by the taste. It’s not bad at all, but it’s not a taste I’m familiar with. It’s not sweet, definitely not sour, and for some reason it’s turning me on. A lot. I spend a lot of time running my tongue between her folds slowly, languidly, listening to the sounds she makes because of it. 

I’m so hard again, I have to reach down and start beating my dick to her reaction. I know I’m looking for her clit, and I don’t think I can find it with my tongue, so I use my free, unworking hand to dip a finger inside her and curve it upwards. I spend a moment or two clunkily searching, probably confusing her, but when she whines and gasps I know I’ve found it. 

I replace my fingers with my mouth, spreading her apart while stimulating those nerves with a flat tongue. It doesn’t take her long after that, and I pump extremely quickly so I can come at the same time she does. 

When it’s over, we’re both spent. I rest the side of my head against her inner thigh and look up at her, most likely wearing the same cloudy expression. 

“Not virgins,” she breathes, giggling at the end.

I press a punctuating kiss to the inside of her knee. “Nope.” 

She grabs my head and pulls me up, my torso resting overtop her throbbing center. “I love you,” she whispers. 

“I love you.”

**_DOWNTOWN CHICAGO, PRESENT_ **

“Look at this, mommy. Look what I spelled.” 

“I - love - you. teddy bear! That’s so good. I love you, too.” 

I hear the two before I catch sight of them, but when I do I can’t help but smile. They’re sitting on a bench, waiting for me outside Grant Park, bundled in winter gear. Theo is holding up April’s phone, proudly displaying what he’d evidently just typed. 

I was supposed to leave Chicago yesterday. But I pulled some strings and will be staying for a little longer. As I look at the two of them, I know I couldn’t have left. 

But I won’t tell April that. She’ll be none the wiser. If I tell April I extended my trip because of her, she’ll insist I get back to my normal life. And that’s something I don’t think I want to do. At least, not yet.

Theo whispers something in April’s ear, and she makes eye contact with me and smiles. “Hey,” she says, standing. “You made it.” 

It’s frigid outside, the first snow threatening to fall any day now, but April invited me to join one of she and Theo’s winter traditions. Riding a horse-drawn carriage around downtown. On the phone, she didn’t mention it being Theo’s idea to ask me along, but I still wonder if it was. The last time I saw her, I’d mentioned the promise ring but didn’t go into much detail. That was about two days ago, then I get a call out of the blue to come down to Michigan Avenue today. 

I know April better than anyone, though. And I know she wants to talk. 

“Of course I did,” I say. “Hey, little man.” 

“Hi,” Theo says, leaning against April’s legs and looking up at me with wide eyes and a small smile. 

“Ready to go find a carriage?” April asks, touching the side of our son’s winter hat. “They usually gather around Water Tower.” 

It’s not hard to find one that’s available. When we get situated, I inconspicuously pull out a 50-dollar bill and hand it to the driver, but April pipes up before he can take it. 

“No,” she says. “You don’t have to do that. I can pay.” 

“I got it, don’t worry,” I say.

“You’re our guest,” she says. “I have the money.” 

I smile. “April, I want to. Please let me.” 

Her eyebrows lower and her expression changes. “I have my own money, Jackson,” she says. “You don’t have to throw yours around. I can- I can take care of it. I’ve got it.”

I sit back, taking the bill with me. Her defensive tone surprises me - if she thinks I was trying to prove something by paying the driver, she’s way off. I was just trying to make a kind gesture. But apparently, she didn’t see it that way. 

“Okay,” I say. “By all means.” 

“Thank you,” she says, and hands a bill that I can’t see to the man. She keeps it hidden, wrapped in her palm. 

When we sit back, a silence sits over the three of us until Theo speaks. “Do the horsies get tired, mommy?” he asks. 

“They like doing it, I think,” she says, wrapping an arm around his waist where he sits on her lap. “If they get tired, they can rest.” 

“Do they get cold?” 

“No,” she says. “They have a lot of muscle and fat to keep them warm.” 

“Like Daddy?” 

Her face turns beet red. “I…” she says, but doesn’t finish before plunking her forehead down on the back of Theo’s shoulder. When she picks her head up, she’s laughing as she looks at me. “To be clear, I said you keep warm out there on the field when it’s cold because you have a lot of muscle. Not fat.” 

I pretend to be hurt. “Nah, you called me fat,” I say. “The truth comes out.” I look at Theo. “Mommy thinks I’m fat. Dang… my heart! That gets me right in my heart.” 

Theo giggles and when he does, he looks just like April. Their dimples pop in the exact same way. 

“I did not!” she says, laughing too. “I swear I didn’t. He just wondered, in just your football uniform, how-”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” I say, still going along with it. “I’m fat. It’s fine, just say it. I’m fat.” 

April dissolves into laughter and Theo stands up in the middle of the carriage. “Don’t worry, daddy,” he says. “You’re not fat.” 

“Aw, thanks, little man,” I say. “At least one of you is on my team.”

“I’m on your team!” Theo says, stutter-stepping a bit as the carriage rattles along the busy streets of downtown. “I have a jersey. And it’s even your number. And it has your last name.” 

I look over Theo’s shoulder at April, who’s nodding. 

“That’s awesome,” I say. “I definitely need to see that on you here pretty soon.” 

“Okay!” Theo says. “I can show you when we get home!”

I love the way he says that. Like we’re all going home to the same place. I smile to myself picturing it, what our domestic life could’ve looked like had things gone differently, but then I force myself to stop. I am in a relationship. I can’t be thinking like that. 

“Mama,” Theo all-but-whispers. “Can I sit on his lap?” 

April meets my eyes, silently asking for permission. Of course, I nod. “Come on up, buddy,” I say, patting my thighs. 

The weight of my son resting on me is something I never knew I needed. I never knew how comforting is it to have a child, no less a child that’s a part of you, safe in your arms. 

I’m not sure where to put my hands, especially with April’s eyes boring into us, so I set them on my legs. But, unsatisfied with that, Theo reaches behind and grabs my wrists to make them act as a seatbelt around his waist. 

“You’re way bigger than Mommy,” he says, giggling softly as he leans against me, resting the back of his head on the front of my shoulder. “You’re warm, too.” 

“All that muscle and fat,” I say, jiggling him a little. 

He laughs again. Suddenly, my only goal in life is to continue to make my son laugh. 

We continue our ride through the city without talking much, at first. After a while, I feel Theo relax, and April catches my eye.

“He’s asleep,” she says, smiling. “Can I get a picture?” 

I nod, and she pulls out her phone. I notice it’s banged up, not the latest model, and keep it in mind to buy her a new one. Then, I take that thought back. She won’t want it. 

“Cute,” she says. “I’ll send it to you.” 

We’re quiet for a few more moments until I speak up this time. “I know we need to talk about… what I said,” I say, touching the ring with my thumb. “This.” 

She looks down at my hand, then back to my face. “Yes,” she says. “That.” 

“You deserve the story,” I say. “So, I’ll tell you. Um… her name is Steph. We met at a bar, back in Seattle. At first, it was just a… um, a one-night-stand sort of deal.” I whisper that part, just in case Theo is anywhere close to consciousness. “But then, I don’t know. It turned into something else, I guess.” 

She makes a sound. “You guess?”

“Right,” I say, sighing. “We’re good together. She… um, she doesn’t know about you.” 

“I never figured you’d tell people about me,” April says. “You don’t have to sound so guilty.” 

I frown a bit. “Well, I do feel that way,” I say. 

“Why?” she asks. 

“Because I stopped looking for you,” I say. 

“Jackson,” she says, tone even. “I never meant for you to find me. When someone doesn’t want to be found…” Her voice dies off. “It’s not your fault. I did this. Okay? So, don’t feel guilty.” 

She can say that all she wants, but it doesn’t make the sick feeling in my gut go away. The one I get whenever I look at she and Theo smiling together, sitting close, or when I watch her act as a parent. It’s a mixture of jealousy, resentment, and guilt. But what’s even more confusing, is that there’s a layer of warmth beneath those emotions. Warmth that tells me I could watch the two of them act as mother and son all day. For the rest of my life. 

I shake my head to clear it. “So, the ring is Steph’s. Well, mine. But she has one, too. Like I said, it’s not an engagement ring. I couldn’t correct you that first night because, well, my mind was going crazy. This ring was my last thought.” 

Her face transforms into something I can’t read, but it looks like some form of surprise and realization. 

“Jackson,” she says, voice unassuming, just like I’ve heard Theo’s sound. 

I look up and meet her eyes. We make lasting, meaningful contact for what feels like the first time since we’ve met again. 

“Do you still love me?” 

I should be shocked by her question. I should be bumbling, not knowing what to say, tripping over my words. Maybe, I should even be angry with her for assuming that I would. But, after all these years, April still knows me best. 

“Yes,” I answer, holding Theo a little tighter. “In a way I don’t understand.” 

She takes pause for only a moment, eyes never drifting away. Then, she says, very quietly, “Me, too.” 

The ride goes on for a long time. April scoots a little closer to me, touching our son’s arm and holding his slack hand. 

“We should be friends,” she says, looking from him to me. “We shouldn’t… you’re taken.” 

“I’m taken,” I say, nodding. 

“And it’ll only confuse him,” she says, stroking Theo’s beautiful skin. “If we tried anything more. And, you’re taken.” 

“I am taken.” 

“For him, let’s be friends.” 

I search her face. It’s still so much the same as it was when she left me. The same blush, same freckles, same dimples. It’s like she’s been locked in a time capsule all these years. 

“For us, too,” I say.

…

I drop the two of them off at their apartment. Theo is still groggy, so April carries him out of the car and he’s lax on her chest as I walk her to the front door. 

We stand at the entrance, my hands shoved into my pockets, her eyes wandering my features. A small smile appears on her lips, though I don’t ask why. 

“Today was great,” she says. “Thanks for coming.”

“No,” I say. “Thank you.” 

I lean forward and give her a kiss on the cheek, long and lasting. I don’t pull away immediately, I let myself rest there, where I was once so comfortable, until I’m ready to let go. 


	5. Chapter 5

APRIL

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, 5 YEARS AGO_ **

It’s snowing, which means I have to get Theo wrapped in his winter gear before we go outside this morning. 

I glance through the window, let out a stressed sigh, and hurry to the closet with my baby on my hip. “Mommy’s already late,” I say, standing on tiptoe to grab the storage tub from a high shelf. “But we can’t have my little man freezing his toes off, can we?” 

I smile at my son and he looks at me with wide eyes. I stretch again to get the container, but I tip it over the edge and it goes tumbling down, making a huge racket as it goes. 

Theo starts to cry, upset by the commotion. 

“I know, I know,” I say, kneeling to pick it up from its side. But as I lift, the lid comes off and all the contents spill out onto the floor in the hall.    
  
“Damn it,” I say, rifling through various clothes to find his snowsuit as his cries turn into screams. I can’t hear myself think. “I know, buddy,” I say, finally finding it, and bring him to the couch. “It’s okay. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for the loud noise. Mama didn’t mean to scare you.” 

He sniffles, one thumb in his mouth, fat tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“All better,” I say, then lay him flat. In typical Theo fashion, he rolls over and practically falls off the couch before I catch him, solidifying him in place. 

“Stay still, honey,” I say. “We gotta get this on you.” 

It’s a little small. I bought it on clearance over the summer, knowing we’d need it come winter. And now that we need it, he’s grown. I guess I didn’t take that into account.

But I shove his arms and legs in anyway, which makes him scream like he’s being tortured. His face is pinched, eyes shut tight, arms and legs beating the air as I zip him up. 

“I know, I’m evil,” I say, propping him on my hip again. He writhes in my arms, fighting to be put down, but I hold fast. I somehow put my own coat on, slipping into my winter boots, and step over the mess I made in the hall as I head toward the front door. Cleaning up will have to wait until later, I don’t have time now. 

I pull Theo’s hood over his curls and he grunts and whines against that, too. I hitch him higher as we walk down the sidewalk towards the train and he whimpers the whole time. He’s still teething, which has made him fussy. It’s not been an easy or short stage. 

We ride the train to Lakeview, where his daycare and my job are located. I hurry off, keeping a good hold on my son, and push open the door to the daycare with my back once we reach it.

“Good morning, Theo!” one of his daycare providers says, stretching her arms out. “All bundled up today, I see.” 

“Yeah, and hating it,” I say, handing over the diaper bag along with my baby. “I gotta go. I’m late for work. I’ll be back by 8.” 

After work, comes night school. During the weekdays, Theo spends more time at daycare than he does with me. I hate it. I hate that sometimes, when I come to pick him up, he fights to go back into his favorite employee’s arms. It scratches away a little piece of my heart each time he does it. 

I know I’m not being fair, to him or myself. He’s a baby. I know he loves me. And I’m providing for us - working during the day and going to class every night, starting at 5, to become a licensed chiropractor. Someday, I’m going to own my own business and we’re going to live a much easier life. 

After my night class is over, I hurry from the downtown campus back to Lakeview to pick up my son. My breasts are aching - Theo needs to eat - and he’s probably fussy by this point. I need to get us home. He needs to nurse and get in bed, and I need to start on the boatloads of homework I have. 

I burst through the door, bringing cold wind with me, and see he’s the only child left. This place closes down at 8:30, and Theo is consistently the last one here. It doesn’t help with my guilt, so I never draw attention to it. 

“Hi, sweet boy,” I say, kissing his forehead as an employee hands him over. He grunts, stretches his arms out for me, and nuzzles his face into my neck. I let out a sigh of relief, happy to have my baby back in my arms after a long, grueling day. 

I coerce him back into the snowsuit, easier this time because he’s sleepy, and begin our long trek home. He falls asleep on my chest while we ride the train, and the disrobing of winter gear is what wakes him up when we get to the apartment.

“Hungry, baby boy?” I ask, after we’re both changed into pajamas and sitting on the cushioned rocking chair in his room. Our house isn’t very furnished, but this was a chair I saw at Salvation Army and knew I had to have. It’s been a godsend to have it in his room. 

I pull down the collar of my shirt and Theo finds his way to my breast without a problem. He’s a little over 12 months old, too old to be nursing according to some strict baby gurus, but I don’t care. He still needs me, and I’m okay with that. He never took to formula, and now eats mostly solid food, but when I tried to wean him from this bedtime routine, all we’d do was find our way back. 

So, I let it stay for a while longer. 

His lips move slowly as he sighs, eyes closing. I look down where his pudgy fist has gripped the neck of my shirt, holding fast, and smile. I drift to his face, marveling as his mile-long eyelashes and perfect bow-shaped mouth. He is a masterpiece, there’s no denying. 

“Dear God,” I whisper. “Thank you for this day. Thank you for helping me get through it, and thank you for bringing us home safely tonight. Thank for you my healthy baby, and may he continue to stay that way. I’m so grateful for the lessons you’ve taught me, and opportunities you’ve given me, God.” I stay concentrated on my little boy. “Please guide me and keep us safe, Lord,” I say. “We need you more than ever.”

Soon, Theo’s mouth goes slack and though he’s fallen asleep, I can’t bear to move him. As he drifts further, his body twitches and he makes small sounds, fingers moving subtly as he relaxes away from my nipple.

Just as I’m about to lay him down, the doorbell rings. I pinch my lips in frustration as he wakes up and starts to cry, tucking myself back into my shirt as I hold the baby with his face over my shoulder. 

“Who could…” I mutter angrily, padding in socked feet to answer the door while Theo continues to wail in my arms.

I open it and see my landlord standing there. She looks surprised when I answer, probably past the point of disheveled with a distressed baby on my hip. 

“Hi… April,” she says. She flashes me an uncomfortable smile.

“Evening,” I say, bouncing Theo in efforts to quiet him down. It doesn’t do any good. 

“How are you?” 

I nudge my glasses up on my nose with my free hand, I only wear them at night, but tonight I wish they were off. They’re giving me a headache worse than the one I already have. 

“A little stressed at the moment, gotta be honest,” I say, laughing uncomfortably. “The baby had just fallen asleep when you rang the doorbell.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says. “I just came by to tell you that it’s the fifth of the month and we haven’t yet received your rent check.” 

I sigh - long and exasperated. I knew I’d been forgetting something. 

“I’ll get it to you,” I mutter. “I promise. I have the money, I do. I just need to transfer it, and it’ll be there. I’ll write the check tomorrow morning.” 

She looks at me wearing an awkward expression. Theo still hasn’t stopped crying. 

“We do charge a late fee after the fifth, April,” she says. “And this isn’t the first time this has happened.” 

“I know, I know,” I snap. “I’m fully aware, believe me. I have a lot on my plate right now, and it’s not as easy as it might freakin’ seem to juggle all of it.” I hold the baby closer. “Theo, please...” I practically beg, one hand flat on his back. I look at my landlord. “I’ll get you the money tomorrow. I promise. Charge me a late fee, do what you have to do, I don’t care. I just… I have to get my son to sleep.” 

I shut the door in her face. 

Theo’s cries lessen to whimpers as I hold him against my heartbeat, walking calmly around his room while singing a song from kids’ church last Sunday.

“I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart,” I sing softly. “Down in my heart… I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart… down in my heart to stay…” 

After he falls asleep, I lay him down in the crib and hope I’ll be able to find that joy soon.

I drag my feet to the living room, where I sit on the couch with my homework surrounding me, not doing a single bit. All I can do is stare at the wall and think about how tired I am, think about how Theo might not sleep through the night tonight because of his teeth, and how I probably won’t even have gone to sleep by the time he wakes back up. 

I rub my temples and start to cry, hot tears slipping down my cheeks. I feel hopeless. I can’t do this anymore, not on my own. I’m late on rent for the third month in a row, and I’ll have to scrape together everything I have to make it. I’ll probably have to short the daycare for a second time, promising that I’ll pay them when I get the money. Outstanding tuition not covered by aid was already taken out of my account, which only makes me suffer more. 

The weight of the world lies heavy on my shoulders. I never expected life to look like this after I left. I expected it to be hard, but doable. This feels impossible. 

I pull out my phone and don’t bother with opening my contacts. This person is no longer on that list. Instead, I open the dialpad and poise my finger over the 4 to start on the Ohio area code, the one I hope he still has. 

I need help. I never wanted to ask for it from him, but I feel I have no other choice. I need to call Theo’s father; I need some sort of clarity, I need someone to hold us up. I can’t do it on my own anymore. 

My eyes dart to the clock. It’s almost 11pm, which is late. I don’t want to call and wake him up, shaking him with such life-altering news at night. I’ll call tomorrow, in the morning. 

The next day, Theo is in a much better mood. I give him a teething ring to chew on after he’s done nursing, then switch on the TV so he can listen to it in his bouncer while I get ready.

As I’m putting on my makeup, a familiar name calls me out of the bathroom. When I walk out, I see that ESPN is on, and there are sports commentators talking about promising new players from colleges around the United States. 

“Jackson Avery, a big name from Bama,” one man says. “He’s only a sophomore, but Jesus, does that boy have legs. Have you seen him on that field? He’s a demon. He’s gonna go places, that’s for sure. Pros are gonna be fighting over this one.” 

Theo squeals and bangs his fists on the tray in front of him, causing plastic toys to scatter on the hardwood floor below. I sigh, looking from my son to the screen, and back again. 

I won’t call Jackson. I can’t. I put the thought out of my mind. 

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, THREE YEARS AGO_ **

“Mommy… Mommy, wake up!”

I open my eyes and feel a little body on mine, hands lightly jostling my shoulders to get me to respond.

“It’s the first day of school, mommy!” 

I roll onto my back and look at my three-year-old son, dressed in his matching pajamas with puppy dogs all over them. His eyes are bright and cheery as if it isn’t 6am, and his hair is a wild mess. His smile is contagious, I can’t help but give one back. 

“It is the first day, isn’t it?” I say, pulling him close for a big hug. “My big boy is going to school!” 

Theo is starting his first year of preschool at John T. McCutcheon elementary school, and he couldn’t be more excited. I’m excited, too, but at the same time I have a small stone of sadness sitting in my gut. He’s not my little baby anymore. 

“I’m a big boy now,” he says proudly, smiling even wider. “Right, mama?” 

“Right,” I say, ruffling his hair. “Pretty soon you’re gonna be in high school. What will I do then? What will I do without my little baby?” 

He cracks up giggling and buries his face in my armpit, one arm tight around my middle. “I’m not a baby, mama,” he says. 

I smile to myself. “Doesn’t matter how old you get,” I say. “You’ll always be my little baby.” 

“Even when I’m 6?” he asks. “15? A hundred forty-two?” 

“Even then,” I say, and jiggle him. “Okay, we gotta get our lazy butts out of this bed and get you dressed, teddy bear. Let’s go!” 

He puts on the outfit we picked out last night, tiny jeans and a dark green polo, and I’m taken aback at how much he looks like his father in that color. His eyes pop, and when I tame his hair as best I can, he could be Jackson’s little twin. I have a hard time looking at him for too long because of it. 

“You look great, buddy,” I say. “Let’s get a picture.” 

I take a picture of him by himself in front of the door, then we pose for a selfie. He wraps his arms around my neck and squishes his cheek against mine, both of us cheesing for the camera. 

We walk hand-in-hand to his school, making light conversation as we go. 

“Are you nervous, baby?” I ask, looking down. 

He looks up, meeting my gaze. Shaking his head, he says, “No.” 

“Not one bit?” 

“Nope!” he says, swinging my arm. “I wanna go to school and learn and be smart lots.” 

“Be smart like mama?” I ask. 

“You’re the smartest ever!” he shouts, then breaks out in giggles. “I’m gonna make lots of friends. Right, mama?” 

“Of course you are,” I say. “Everyone’s gonna love you. But I’m still gonna be your best-best friend, right?” 

He smirks my way. “Yes.” 

“You’ll always be my best-best, too,” I say. 

We walk a little further, and as I feel Theo’s smooth hand tucked into my own, tears prick the backs of my eyes. I look down at him and remember all that we’ve been through these past three years, all the rough spots we’ve experienced to get here, and feel so grateful for the child he’s grown to be. He is by far my greatest accomplishment and biggest joy. I don’t know where I would be without him at my side. 

And now, he’s moving onto the next milestone in his life. One that I can see him through, but can’t carry him over. He’s not a baby anymore, he’s a child. Of course, he’s still very young. But it’s different now. He’s in school. He’s not an infant who needs me every second of every day, depending on me for absolutely everything. He has unique thoughts, feelings, and a very special personality. 

When we get to the school, swarms of other parents and children are milling about, talking excitedly. Theo grips my hand a little tighter as he gravitates toward my legs, growing shy now that this has all become real. 

“You’re okay,” I say, stroking his hair. “Let’s go inside. Get away from all this noise.” 

Inside the school is a little better, but not by much. Theo stays right on my heels, now holding my hand with both of his. When we get to his classroom, I stop just outside and kneel, holding my son’s face in my hands as I look deep into his eyes. 

“I wanna go home,” he says. “Mommy, can we go home?” 

“No, honey,” I say, and lean forward to rest my forehead against his. “It’s gonna be great. I promise. Remember how excited you were just a little bit ago?” 

He wraps his arms tight around my neck, unrelenting. “I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs, and I wrap my arms around him. “Stay here.” 

“I can’t stay with you at school all day,” I say. “You don’t want your old mom here, anyway.” 

“Yes, I do!”

I chuckle. “It’ll be okay, babe. You’ll get used to it.” 

Then, his teacher comes out and greets us. Theo looks at her with wary eyes, still holding onto me with everything he has. 

“He’s a little nervous,” I tell her. 

“That’s alright!” she says. “Come on in, Theodore, I’ll show you your spot on the rug.” 

“My name’s Theo,” he mutters, staring at the carpet as we walk. 

“Theo,” I say, a bit louder so the teacher can hear. “He likes to be called Theo.” 

“Got it,” she says, smiling. “Alright then, Theo. Your spot is right here. Does this look good to you?” 

“How about you try it out?” I say, squatting. 

He sits, looking between the teacher and me without saying much. Then, he pushes himself up and throws his arms around my neck again. 

“Please don’t go, mama,” he whimpers. 

I make eye contact with the teacher and she gives me a sympathetic glance. I rub Theo’s back and kiss his temple, swaying us side to side a bit. We spend a while there, just the two of us, until I pull away and wipe his tear-stains with my fingertips. 

“My brave boy,” I say. “You can do this. I know you can. You’re gonna love school. You’re my smart boy, I can’t wait for you to get even smarter.” 

He sniffles. “Smart as you.” 

“Smart as me,” I say, then press a deliberate kiss to his forehead. “I’ll see you at 3:30 sharp. I won’t be late. I’ll be here to get you.” 

He nods, gives me one last hug, then watches me leave. When I look at him adjusting through the window on the classroom door, my heart swells with pride. 

I try not to think of Jackson often. But during moments like these, that’s easier said than done. I want to share this pride with someone - him, specifically. I want to be standing in this hallway that smells like Crayons next to Theo’s father, both of us misty-eyed together. 

But instead, I walk out alone, feeling a strange mixture of being empty and full. 

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, PRESENT_ **

Now, in front of John T. McCutcheon elementary, I’m waiting for Theo’s class to come out with Jackson at my side. His presence is nice, comforting, grounding. I never knew simply being next to him again would bring me so much clarity and stability. 

He makes me feel those things, yet I’ve never been more confused in my life. When he kissed my cheek a couple days ago, he’d lingered and neither of us wanted to move away. I could tell that much. When he pulled away, though, we met eyes and exchanged unspoken words, unspoken feelings.

I’ve been trying to shove them down ever since. He’s involved with someone else. And even if he weren’t, trying to start something with him again would be messy and confusing for everyone involved. For Theo, we work best as friends. 

“Here he comes,” I say, standing on tiptoe to spot our son. 

I see his teacher leading the line, then catch sight of him in the middle, jumping up and down to get my attention. When he sees Jackson, his mouth gapes before he starts clapping and smiling. 

“He's so excited,” Jackson says, sounding pleased. 

“Of course he is,” I say. “I told you he would be.” 

“Mommy!” Theo says, arms stretched out wide as he careens towards us. “Daddy came!” 

“I thought you’d like to see him,” I say, squeezing him tight. “How was your day?” 

“Good!” he says, then directs his eyes up to Jackson. He looks like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. 

“What’d you do?”

“I don’t know,” he says, taking my hand as we walk away from the crowd of people.

“You don’t know?” I say, messing with him. “What did you do, sit and stare at the wall all day?”

Theo giggles. Jackson walks on the other side, so I nod and gesture for him to take his son’s hand. He looks strained at first, nervous to do it, but he follows through. He takes Theo’s hand and Theo looks up at him, surprised, but lets it happen. A smile graces his lips because of it.

“Now, I got two!” he says, swinging both of our arms. 

We walk for a little while, talking about Theo’s day as he keeps pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“You got some crazy hair, little man,” Jackson says. “Looks like you need a cut!” 

I furrow my eyebrows, unable to keep the frown off my face. I’ve always been touchy about Theo’s hair because though I’ve gotten better over the years, I’m still no expert. I do my best, I’m always learning new things, but I can never seem to keep up. 

“I moisturize it every other day,” I snap. “It’s healthy hair. There’s nothing wrong with it. His hair is beautiful.” 

Jackson looks at me, raising his eyebrows. “Hey, that wasn’t supposed to be a dig. I love his hair. Mine used to get the same way, all crazy when Mom let it go for too long. But trust me, it’ll be a lot easier to handle if you get it buzzed into a nice shape. “

I swallow, glancing at the curls atop my son’s head. It would be helpful not to have to go through a forest of tangles and tears trying to get it to look nice. He’d probably like it much better, too. 

I just don’t like feeling inadequate when it comes to taking care of him. I’ve done a good job on my own for years. I can’t be perfect all the time. I can’t help but feel defensive.

“It’s okay, Peach,” Jackson says, quietly just so I can hear. “Happens to the best of us.” 

That soothes me slightly, and I know he’s right. Theo’s hair does need work. I haven’t gotten around to it because we don’t get a lot of time, and because a trip to the barber never goes well. 

“Theo, how about a haircut?” I say, squeezing his hand. 

“No,” he says, shaking head and making his hair bounce. “No, thank you.” 

I chuckle. “Very polite, but there’s not really much of a choice involved. We have the time now, why don’t we stop by the barber’s? Your poof is getting kinda crazy, babe.” 

He stops in his tracks and drops both of our hands. “No, mommy!” he whines, eyes growing wide and glassy. “I don’t wanna get my hair cut. I don’t wanna go!” 

“Honey, it’ll be fine,” I say, glancing at Jackson warily. 

“No, it won’t!” he argues. “I hate haircuts! They hurt me and they always looks bad!” He starts fully crying, tears sliding down his cheeks at a rapid pace. “They cut up my head and make it sting!” 

“Hey,” Jackson says, kneeling. “I know where we can go so that doesn’t happen.” 

Theo sniffles, wiping his face with the backs of his hands. 

“Is that what bothers you so much about haircuts?” he asks. “Is that why you don’t wanna go?” 

Theo gravitates to my side, holding onto my hand with two of his as he watches Jackson with wondering eyes. “Yeah,” he peeps. “They cut me.” 

Jackson looks up at me. “They don’t know how to get a good, close shave,” he says. “I don’t mean any offense by this, but…” He clears his throat. “White barbers. Peach, I gotta take him to someone who knows black hair. Do you mind?” 

I shake my head, slow at first and then more confidently. 

“I wanna take you to the kind of people who cut my hair,” Jackson says. “Do you like my hair?” 

Theo studies Jackson’s head, then reaches to run his hands over the kept curls. He nods slightly, still sniffling.

“I can have them do yours just like this,” he says. “Would you like that?” 

Theo nods again, but shrinks in closer to me. “Mama comes, too.” 

“Of course she’s gonna come,” Jackson says, standing up to his full height. “Let’s call an Uber and go get ourselves a haircut.” 

The three of us walk into a barber shop called Kenny Mac’s, Theo still attached to my side. The bell dings as the door opens, and a few guys look over and their faces light up when they see Jackson. 

“Jackson Avery!” one of them says. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

“My boy needs a cut,” Jackson says, shaking the guys’ hands. Theo intensely watches his father interact with these new men, interest lit in his eyes. 

“Look at that hair,” someone else says. “Let’s get this little man set up with a chair and a cape. We’ll take care of him.” The barber makes eye contact with me. “Don’t worry, mom.” 

I let go of Theo’s hand and he follows Jackson and the barber, whose name is Bryan, over to a chair. I sit by the magazines and pretend I’m not watching, but in reality I can’t take my eyes off of them. 

Jackson helps Theo flip through a magazine until he finds something he likes. “He wants this,” Jackson says, showing it to Bryan.

“Mid-fade!” Bryan says. “Let me see, he’s got some curls, that’s for sure. So, mid-fade with edge-up. And I’ll find a way to utilize these.” 

“That sound good?” Jackson asks Theo, and he nods. 

Then, I see Theo grab Jackson’s hand and whisper something in his ear.

When he finishes, Jackson stands and says to Bryan, “Don’t cut my boy, or I’ll have to sock you to next week.” 

They both laugh. Theo looks between the two grown men with an expression on his face that tells me he wants to be amused, too. 

“Don’t go, daddy,” Theo says, and Jackson tells him he won’t. He stays by the chair the whole time, stealing glances at me over his shoulder every now and then. 

I can’t help but smile. Sitting here in this barber shop, we’re a family.

When it’s over, Theo’s grin melts my heart when Bryan turns him around and he looks at his new cut. “Mommy!” he practically sings. “Look at my cool new hair!” 

“I see!” I say, standing. I walk over and Jackson is beaming. Bryan undoes the cape and Theo hops down, walking closer to the mirror. 

“It’s so cool,” he says. “Now, I look just like Daddy.”

“You already did, my man,” Bryan says, chuckling. Jackson hands him a bill I can’t see, and I let him. I don’t know why, but I do. 

We ride the train home, the three of us sitting in a row on the Red Line. As Theo touches his new hair, someone unfamiliar comes up to Jackson and asks for his autograph, which prompts a few more people to do the same.

I frown, pulling Theo closer as Jackson signs a couple phone cases and stray napkins. I eye them warily, feeling territorial all of a sudden. That’s my baby’s father, and they think they know his life? They don’t know the first thing about him. 

Once we’re on the sidewalk heading to the apartment, I feel like I can let out a long sigh of relief. I’m about to bring it up to Jackson, but his phone rings before I can. 

“Hello?” 

Theo looks up as he starts to talk, and I can’t help but watch, too. Jackson tries to keep his voice low, but we’re too close to hide anything from. 

“Yes,” he says, then pauses. “Yes, I do. I know that. Yes, I know I said that. I do have to be back soon, but I don’t necessarily know what ‘soon’ - … no. Yes. It’s not that, Steph, it’s…” He sighs and waits. “I know, and I’m sorry. Yeah. I just… I don’t know, okay? No, it’s not like that.” A long pause. “Talk to you soon,” He says. “Bye.” 

“Mommy,” Theo says as Jackson hangs up. “Is Daddy famous?” 

I look at the man I once loved so much it hurt. I see the pain and confusion written all over his face - he’s doing nothing to hide it. 

“Yes, he is,” I say. “A lot of people love your daddy.” 

“But us the most, right?” 

I gloss over his question and unlock the front door to our apartment instead. 

“Theo, honey,” I say, setting our bags down. “Homework, okay? While I get started on dinner.” 

“Aw, mommy…” he whines, dragging his feet. “But Daddy’s here. Can I play with him instead?” 

I make eye contact with Jackson, and we silently communicate as parents for the first time. 

“Playing comes after homework, little man,” he says. “Sit down at the table with me. What do we got tonight?” 

I go into the kitchen to make spaghetti, but with Jackson and Theo still in sight. Theo gets out a math worksheet he’s been working on for the past couple days, and shows Jackson what he hasn’t done yet. 

“You can add four-digit numbers?” Jackson asks. “April, he can add four digits!”

“I know,” I say, smiling. “He’s a genius.” 

“You’re a genius, dude,” Jackson says. “I didn’t learn how to add big numbers til ‘like, yesterday.” 

Theo giggles, leaning back against the chair. “I got my genius from Mama, that’s why,” Theo says, still laughing.

“Another burn,” Jackson says. “First I’m fat, now I’m stupid.” 

“Bad word!” Theo says. “Mama, Daddy said the s-word.” 

I peek my head out of the kitchen. “Put a quarter in the swear jar, mister.”

“You owe me a quarter,” Theo says, outstretching his open palm. 

Jackson rifles for a coin and hands it over, and Theo runs into his bedroom to put it in the jar that’s only a bit full. I’m not a huge potty-mouth, only when I’m stressed or afraid. Theo keeps this house in check. 

The two of them finish the worksheet, which I can tell Theo appreciates. He’s been wanting to get that out of the way for a while now. He goes to put it back in his backpack, and when he does, his inhaler falls out with a clatter. 

“What’s that?” Jackson asks. 

“Just my inhaler,” Theo says. “For asthma. I have one to bring to school just in case I have an asthma attack. But usually I don’t. Only if I’m running super fast.” 

“Is that why you were in the hospital?” he asks. 

“Yeah, except not really. I had br…” 

“Bronchitis,” I call from the kitchen. “And when he gets that, we have to go in. It irritates his lungs worse than it would for a normal kid.” 

“Got it,” Jackson says. “Well, that’s kinda scary.”

“Not really,” Theo says. “Wanna see a picture of me with my very first inhaler when I was little?”

Jackson must agree, because Theo’s footsteps hurry down the hallway and he returns with a picture in his hands. It’s one of him at about two years old, holding up an inhaler and smiling ear-to-ear, so proud. 

“You’re a cutie,” Jackson says. 

“I know,” Theo says. 

“With Mom’s confidence, I see,” Jackson says, poking his son in the ribs. 

“What’s that mean?” Theo asks, but instead of answering him, Jackson looks over his shoulder and meets my eyes with a smile. 

“Can you show me more pictures?” Jackson asks. “There’s a lot I didn’t get to see. Maybe you could catch me up now.” 

“Mama, can Daddy see my baby book?”

“Sure, honey,” I say. “You know where it is.” 

He runs down the hall yet again, lugging a big blue photo album when he comes back. “Here…” he grunts. “It is. Open it! It has all every single thing of me inside.”

Jackson cracks the cover and Theo waits expectantly next to him. He loves looking through his baby book and hearing all the stories that go along with the photos. 

“This is me when I was just born,” Theo says. I listen, turning around to stir the pasta in the pot. “Well, not right after. ‘Cause I was born on a bus. Right, mommy?” 

“Exactly right,” I say. “Right in the middle of Interstate I-90.” 

“I was born on a highway!” Theo says. “Mommy was riding a bus. And I came out of her tummy in the very back seat.”

I smile to myself. He knows that story well.

“And this is me with Mama when I was a little baby. I was only 8 months old when I started walking, and Mama had to chase me everywhere all around our apartment. And I would get into everything and spill it all so she had to put baby locks on stuff real fast.” He giggles. “I even said my first word before I turned one. Guess what it was.”

Jackson pretends to think. “Hmm…” he says. “Maybe.. Mama?” 

“Yes!” Theo shouts. “How’d you know?” 

“Lucky guess.” 

“Here’s me on my very first birthday party! I shoved cake into my face. It was vanilla with chocolate frosting. See? See how messy I am?”

“I do see.” 

I hear something change in Jackson’s voice. He doesn’t sound quite so lighthearted and jovial anymore, and it doesn’t take much to guess why. He’s getting a front-row seat to everything he missed. He can see it, but he can’t reach out and touch it. There are so many memories, six years worth of them, that he can’t rewind to and relive. 

I know it’s unfair, and I know I caused that unfairness. There’s nothing I can do to take it back now, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling sick. 

“Here’s me and Mommy in front of the Bean. She’s holding me and we have ice cream, see?” 

“You guys did everything together,” Jackson says.

“We still do,” Theo says, nonchalantly as he flips a page. “Mommy’s my best friend, okay? Even more than Johnny at school. So, don’t take her away, okay?” 

I tip my head to one side, surprised Theo would say something like that. 

“I won’t,” Jackson says, the subtle smile returning to his voice. 

“We could share,” Theo says. “But you can’t take.” 

“We’ll work something out.”

“There’s plenty of Mama to go around,” I say, bringing dinner to the table where they’re sitting. “Make room for spaghetti, boys.” 

As we eat, Theo continues to flip through the book. “Here’s me on my first day of school ever!” he says. “See, me and Mom took a selfie. I was really scared, I remember that and I think I cried.” 

“What do you think about school now?” Jackson asked.

“I love it! I’m the smartest one in my whole class, and the fastest too.” 

I catch Jackson’s eyes and we smile again. We go through dinner still looking at pictures, and Theo falls asleep on me during a movie afterwards. Before I pick him up to bring him to bed, I run my hand over his trimmed curls and kiss his forehead, relishing his presence. 

“Alright. Come on, baby,” I say, scooping him up easily. 

“You got him?” Jackson asks, sitting up a bit.

“Yeah,” I say. “Be back.” 

I change our sleepy son into his pajamas and tuck him in, kissing his forehead softly before walking out of the room. 

I rejoin Jackson on the couch with a long sigh, resting my head against the back and letting my eyes roam his face. “Hi,” I say. 

“Hi.” 

“Mommy…” I hear, and dart my eyes in the direction of Theo’s room. “Mommy, you forgot to kiss me goodnight…” 

Jackson pretends to be shocked, gasping and covering his mouth with one hand. “You forgot to kiss our son?” he asks.

I roll my eyes and smack him. “No,” I say. “He’s being a weasel. Hold on.” 

I go back into Theo’s room, where he’s lying with the covers up to his chin, eyes open and waiting. 

“Goodnight, mister,” I say.

“Is Daddy gonna sleep at our house tonight?” he asks, and before I can answer, he continues. “If he can’t fall asleep, I can sing to him. Okay? Will you tell him that?” 

I chuckle. “Sure, honey.” 

“Okay,” he says. “I need my goodnight kiss, mommy. I said my prayers already. I prayed for Daddy to never leave again.” His eyelids grow heavy and I linger in the doorway, holding onto each of his words. “Can he stay, mommy?” he asks. “Can we keep him?” 

I open my mouth, then close it, running my tongue over my lips. “I don’t know, baby,” I say. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I shut his door and sit back down on the couch again, if not a bit closer to Jackson.

“What’d he have to say?” he asks.

“Usual stuff,” I say, choosing to keep it to myself. This isn’t supposed to be as confusing as it’s proving to be. 

“You’re his world, Peach,” Jackson says. “He loves the hell out of you.”

“As he should,” I say, giggling. “No, I’m kidding. I love him… I love him more than I ever thought I could love something. When he was born and I saw his face, I can’t describe it. He was my saving grace, you know?” 

I look at my ex-lover’s expression and instantly regret what I’ve said. No. He doesn’t know. He didn’t get to see Theo’s pinched, messy face when he was just born. He didn’t get to hold that squalling baby in his arms and know that through all his mistakes, he’d done at least one thing right. He didn’t get to feel that unconditional love, even in the dead of night when Theo, as an infant, was unrelentingly fussy with colic. 

He didn’t get any of it, I made sure of that. 

“I am sorry,” I mutter, moments later. “For not letting you know him.” 

“I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry, too. For not trying harder. For not knowing. For not finding you. I don’t know.” 

We sit in silence as I recall our day preceding. Jackson pipes up just as I’m about to speak.

“You have any drinks in the house?” he asks. “Beer, wine, anything? I could use one.” He says the last part with a self-deprecating laugh. 

“I have some wine,” I say. “We could share a bottle.”

“That sounds perfect.” 

I pour us each a glass of red wine and bring them to the living room. He takes a long sip of his and doesn’t set it down, and I do the same. 

I clear my throat and bring up something I haven’t yet stopped thinking about. “So, that phone call earlier…” I say.

He meets my eyes, then flits his gaze away. 

“Is that why you need a drink?” 

He laughs, just a puff of laughter, and takes another long drink. “Yeah,” he says, after he swallows. 

I don’t speak; I wait for him. I give him the floor because I want to know more about this girl, Steph. I don’t know exactly why, but there’s a curiosity about her nagging at the back of my mind. 

“She’s on me to come back,” he says. 

“Oh,” I say, recalling Theo’s words about keeping his father from just moments ago. 

“I haven’t told her why I’ve stayed,” he says. “I’ve kind of… been lying. It’s so much to explain over the phone. But she knows something’s up.” 

He takes another long gulp of his wine and finishes the glass. When he sets it down, I refill it. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, looking up at the ceiling. “With her.” His eyes come down. “With you.” 

I meet his gaze for a second, but my stomach jumps so bad I have to look away. 

“I’m feeling pretty lost right now,” he admits. “Even before I found you. It was actually worse, then. A lot worse. Steph and all them… they know me as Avery, the Seahawks’ quarterback. The guy with the ultra-white teeth who’s in commercials sometimes and plays the game like no one else.” He closes his eyes and scratches his forehead. “It’s tiring. No, it’s more than that. It’s fucking exhausting.” 

I slowly drink my wine, contemplating how to respond. “You can’t let your guard down around her?” I ask. 

He shakes his head slowly, then more adamantly. “No,” he says. “No, not at all. If anything, it’s higher. She’s always trying to get me to be something I’m so fuckin’ sick of being. I’m tired of the superstar persona, and she loves it. Peach, she fuckin’ loves it. She lives for it.” 

He sighs, long and drawn-out. The look in his eyes is confused and wandering. 

“There’s only one person who’s never made me feel like that,” he says. “One.” 

I trace the rim of my glass. I ask the next question, though I already know the answer. 

“Who?” 

Without hesitating, he says, “You.” 


	6. Chapter 6

JACKSON

_ UPTOWN, CHICAGO, PRESENT _

We’re wine drunk. Between us, we’ve downed two bottles and are on our way to a third if we’d stop giggling long enough to pour. 

“Do you remember…” April wheezes, tears in her eyes from how hard she’s laughing. We’ve been trying to keep our voices down, but if anyone’s too loud, it’s her. I can tell she doesn’t drink often. I’m pleasantly tipsy, but she’s way past that. “How bad you were freaking your shit when you asked me out?” 

I cover my face with one hand. “Ass,” I say. “Don’t bring that up. You’re just being mean.” 

She throws her head back and exposes her pretty neck. I want to reach out and touch it, but I show some restraint. 

“I’ve never,  _ ever _ seen so much sweat on one person,” she says. “Ever.” 

“Hey, you’re the one who said yes.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I had the biggest ass crush on you first!” she says, leaning forward. “But I knew way before that you were gonna ask me out. Did you know that?”

“You did not,” I say. 

“I so did…” she slurs. “Teddy heard from Lexie who heard from Mark.” 

“How do you even remember that?” 

“I know everything about us,” she says. “And my memory is long…” 

“Everything,” I say. 

“You heard me,” she says. “Why were you so nervous anyway? You’re… the star footballer player. You were. Are. Both.” 

“You were hot!” I say.

She cackles. “Hot!” she repeats. “Hot. Yeah frickin’ right. More like the biggest nerd ever.” 

“Shut up,” I say. “You were a cheerleader. People liked you.” 

“But people _ loved _ you…” 

I puff out my chest boastfully. “You’re right,” I say. “Most of all, you did the most.”

She giggles, resting the side of her body against the couch with her eyes on me. 

“What?” 

“I’m just looking at you,” she says. “You’re such a… such a man now.” She curls her arms to showcase her biceps and bares her teeth. “A big strong man!” She reaches out and drags her fingertips down my cheek, scratching over the light stubble. “I left a boy. Not a man.” 

“That’s what happens in seven years,” I say. 

“Seven years…” she trails off. 

“Hey,” I say. “Remember when we were fucking that one Halloween? In the trunk of my car in the parking lot of that abandoned warehouse by the graveyard? And some assholes knocked on the windows?” 

“Oh, my god,” she laughs. “I think I died for a second. Like, for real. It was so damn scary!” 

“You thought it was ghosts,” I say, eyes glinting. “More like Jesus’s Holy Ghost coming to smite you for all your sins.” 

“Shut up!” 

“I think that was when we made Theo,” I say, thoughtfully recalling. 

She shakes her head. “Nope,” she says. “Nope, nope, nope. You impregnanted me-” 

“Impregnated, if you really need to say that word.” 

“Whatever,” she says. “When you got the letter from Bama.”

It comes back to me, calling her over to my house, sharing the great news, having celebratory, unprotected sex. Classic. 

“Oh,” I say. 

“Think I don’t know,” she scoffs playfully. “Yeah, I know. I know very well.” 

She goes to take another sip of wine, and I realize I’ve lost count of how many glasses we’ve each had. I pull her glass away and set it on the coffee table next to me. 

“Hey,” she says, pouting. “Don’t grab.” 

“Bartender says you’ve hit your limit,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face. 

“That bartender’s got his head screwed on… screwed,” she says, propping herself up on her knees and leaning over me to try and grab it. In her reach, though, she tumbles forward and ends up on my lap, retrieval of the wine unsuccessful. 

When she turns to look at me, a strange, knowing moment passes over us. We lock eyes and her breath hitches, smelling like the wine just out of her grasp. She bites her lower lip as my eyes rove down to it, and I take her face in my hands only moments later. 

The tips of our noses touch. I expect to feel nervous or cautious, but I feel neither of those things. Holding her like this feels like everything falling into place, and my once-buzzing brain is now silent and calm. I feel centered for the first time in a long time. 

I kiss her. I don’t think, I just do it. After an initial gasp, her lips melt against mine and she winds her arms around my neck, pulling her body closer as our eyes stay closed. 

When we pull apart, her gaze is swimming. “You’ve always been such a good kisser,” she says, licking her lips. “Jesus.” 

I blink slowly, marveling at her face. The alcohol has painted a blush on her cheeks, a dull sparkle in her eyes. Her chest is heaving, I feel it moving against my own, and her heart is hammering through fabric. 

I weave my fingers into her hair and comb it away from her face, and she leans her head against my hand. As I hold her, she plants her grip on my shoulders and moves to straddle my hips, sitting comfortably on my lap with her mouth ghosting over mine.

I get a good hold around the small of her back, noticing all the ways her body is familiar. When she tilts her head to kiss me again, I close my eyes and slip my hands inside the back of her jeans, palming her ass over her underwear. 

She smiles against my mouth, and I swallow the sounds of her laughter. She urges her hips forward, propelled by my hands, and wraps her arms tighter around my neck. 

I open my mouth and she slips her tongue inside, past my lips. Our kisses are wet and sloppy, but at the same time, unhurried. We’ve been waiting a long time for this, and I know I’m not the only one relishing it. 

When she starts grinding on my lap, my erection is impossible to ignore. I know she feels it, too, which only encourages her. Without breaking from my lips, she moves her hips slow and deliberate, rubbing her center against mine, cold fingers trailing over the sides of my neck. 

I grip her ass tighter, then pull my hands out to fumble with the button and zipper of her jeans. When I get them undone, I work on pushing the waistband down, but it can’t go far because of the position we’re in. But working with what I have, I angle my arm between our bodies and slip my hand in the front of her pants as best I can. 

Her mouth comes open and she pulls away, pressing her face into my neck instead as I move my hand, stroking her skin over damp underwear. She’s turned on, that much is obvious, and already wet. 

The feeling of her lips on my neck is driving me crazy. I’m fully hard, ready to be inside her and hoping she’s got the same endpoint in mind. We haven’t spoken at all; there’s been no reason to. Our bodies do all the communicating for us. 

“Bedroom,” she breathes, backing off to stand. “Come on. I’m gonna scream if we don’t…” 

“I know,” I say, and hurry there with her. 

She shuts the door behind us and strips off her shirt first, pants coming next. When she’s in just her underwear, she flops back on the bed and giggles, still drunk, while looking up. 

“Come get me,” she says, knees bent and pressed together. 

I strip down to my boxers, leaving my clothes in a heap near the door. I can’t help but smile as I crawl over her; everything about this body is familiar. Being intimate with her is like coming home. I’m reunited with my first love in every sense, that intimacy having only improved with time. 

I lower my weight onto her and she hugs my waist with her thighs, wrapping her feet around the backs of my legs. “Heavier than I remember,” she says, dragging her fingertips over my shoulder blades.

“Again with the fat jokes,” I say, and kiss her throat when she throws her head back to laugh. 

She rests her arms above her head, eyes closing as I shower her body with kisses. From the inside of her bicep, the curve of her jaw, the outline of her collarbones, I try not to miss a single spot. When I get to her chest, she wriggles out of her bra and throws it to the side. 

“Or did you wanna show off and prove you can actually unbuckle it this time?” she asks. 

I roll my eyes. “Fuck off,” I say.

She shrieks with laughter, pulling my neck down so my head moves to her chest. 

“Shhh,” I say. “You’re gonna wake him up.” 

“Oops.”

While holding her ribcage in both hands, I suck her nipple into my mouth and hang onto the sounds she makes. “Oh, baby,” she moans, hips lifting from the mattress. 

It’s been so long since she’s called me that. I suck harder, hoping to get more nicknames out of her. I can’t let go of the way that made me feel. 

I grab her other breast in my hand, squeezing roughly while my teeth graze over the nipple in my mouth. Her skin tastes the same as it always did, and when I close my eyes the thought crosses my mind that I never want to move from here. I’ve always been obsessed with her breasts - I can’t help it. 

“You’re killing me, you’re killing me, baby…” she moans, still writhing. 

I pop away from her breast, smiling proudly. She looks at me and smiles breathlessly, letting her head fall back with all its weight to the pillow. 

“I gotta tell you something,” I say, moving to kiss the skin around her bellybutton. It’s soft and smooth as she breathes, and goosebumps appear when I run my fingernails over it. “I still have the forever bracelet.” 

Her stomach moves as she giggles. “I know,” she says. “I do, too.” 

Suddenly, I feel drunker than ever. My head spins with affection for her - this girl who used to be my world and is on the way to becoming that much again. As I work my way between her legs, peppering kisses as I go, words come tumbling from my mouth without my given permission. 

“Let’s get married,” I say, slurring.

She laughs. She’s a giggly drunk, so I’ve found. “Those bracelets married us years ago,” she says, throwing her arms above her head again. “I always knew you’d find me.” 

My thoughts are too clouded to decipher what that means, so I shove it out of my mind and pull her underwear off. 

“Please don’t say you’re too drunk to give me head,” she says, hips squirming. 

“No such thing,” I say. “Why? You miss it?” 

“Don’t be an ass, baby,” she says. “It’s not cute.” 

“Baby…” I say, looking up at her while opening my mouth between her legs and laving my tongue over the skin. “Say that again.” 

She whimpers desperately, eyes rolling back into her head, as I move my head side-to-side. “Baby,” she whines. “That feels so… oh, my  _ god _ .” 

By how fast she comes, my guess is that no one’s eaten her out since the last time I did. That makes a strange burst of pride explode in my chest, though I don’t say anything in regards to it. 

“Holy… holy…” she pants, eyes directed up at the ceiling.

“I know I am,” I say. 

She shoves my shoulder with her foot, but I catch her ankle and bow her leg out, kissing my way up to her face again while holding her knee down. 

“You’re too strong,” she says, then puts on a puppy-dog face. She tries to keep the look, but keeps cracking up every few seconds and breaking it. “Baby…” she pouts. 

“What,” I say, moving up from her leg to pin her arms down playfully. 

She sighs and pushes her lower lip out further. “My nipples want you back,” she says, trying to fight a smile. 

“They do, do they?” I ask, then look at them. They’re dark pink, risen to the point of pain with pebbled skin surrounding. “Those look painful, Peach.” 

“They are,” she whimpers. “Make me feel better.” 

“I’ll make you feel better,” I say, then let go of her wrists. I massage one breast while I get my mouth on the other, covering as much area as I can with my tongue and hearing her moan and sigh because of it. 

“Ooh, yes,” she says. “Just like that. Oh, Jackson, you’re so good… you’re so, so good…” 

With my mouth on her nipples, she reaches between our bodies and slips her hand inside the front of my boxers. I flinch a bit at the contact - her hand is cold - but relax as she wraps her fingers around me and starts to pump slowly. 

“You’re so hard…” she purrs, back arching. “And bigger than I remember.” 

“We were 17,” I say. “I’ve had some time to grow.” 

“Mmm…” 

“You wanna see it?” I ask, pulling away from her chest. 

She giggles, low and dark as she grabs for my waistband. I start laughing too, and bat her away.

“You’re handsy,” I say.

“You like it,” she says. “Show me, then, if you think you’re so impressive.” 

I quirk one eyebrow and take my boxers off. When I’m fully naked, April’s eyes center between my legs, unable to look away it seems. 

“I don’t wanna say ‘I told you so,’ but..."

“Want me to suck it?” she asks, pushing herself up to her hands and knees. 

My buzzed mind spins. I’d be an idiot to turn her down; nothing sounds better at the moment than a blowjob from her. Seeing that pretty mouth wrapped around me… I’d be lying if I said I’ve never pictured it to get off.

“Fuck yes,” I say, and she stands up from the bed.

She pulls me to the edge and sinks to her knees, still completely naked. Her hands slip against the skin of my thighs edging inward, and she pries them apart while licking her lips and looking up at me through her eyelashes. 

“When did you become such a sex kitten?” I ask. 

“I’ve had a long dry spell,” she says, swaying on her knees. “Long, long dry spell… not anymore.” 

She takes my dick in her hand and uses the pre-come as lube, pumping fluidly as I grip the comforter tight in my fists. With a sensual sigh, she puts it in her mouth and holds onto my leg with one hand, grappling for my fingers with the other. 

I can feel the small sounds she’s making in her throat. When I watch her, I almost lose it right then and there. I unwind our hands and pet her hair back from her face, stroking slowly, as she finds a rhythm with her mouth and tongue.

“Shit,” I hiss, gritting my teeth. “Fuck, babe.” 

She chuckles, and I close my eyes. Without opening them, I feel her tongue run along the length of my erection, then she presses kisses from the shaft all the way to the tip. 

“April,” I groan. 

“So impatient,” she says. “Don’t worry. I got you. I know just what…” 

With her hand still pumping steadily and her mouth on my balls, I shoot my load all over her shoulder. I open my eyes and see it dripping down her arm, and without breaking eye contact she takes one finger and gathers as much as she can before sticking it in her mouth and sucking it off. 

“God damn,” I moan, breathing heavily. “Come here. I need… I need you. Right now, holy shit. I need you so fuckin’ bad.”

I pull her onto my lap, facing out. But she stops me, laughing, before I sink inside. “Slow down, soldier,” she whispers, reaching behind to hold my head. “Your Peach has been celibate for seven years.” She turns her head and whispers right into my ear, “I’m wet… but I’m tight, baby.” 

I close my eyes, half-hard again already. This girl who I fell in love with - now a woman - will be the death of me.

“Oh, my…” she moans, lowering herself onto my lap as I bury myself in her body. “Oh, Jackson. Jackson, oh… my god…” 

“Yeah?” I manage to say, hands tight on her waist. I kiss her back in the middle of her shoulder blades, nuzzling my nose against the soft skin there. “Fuck, baby. God, you’re tight.” 

“I told you,” she breathes, pressing her lips together and groaning once I’m all the way in. “Oh, god. God, you’re so big.” 

I reach higher and hold her breasts in my hands, pulling her back flush to my chest while tightly squeezing them. Everything about her feels so good. She’s soft and muscular, sweet and flexible, and I would stay like this for the rest of my life if I could. 

“Fuck me,” she begs, curving her spine. 

I kiss the back of her head. “That’s kind of up to you, Peach,” I say. “You gotta move.”

“Oh,” she giggles. “Right. Okay, let me…” 

She lifts her hips until I’m halfway out, then lowers back down incredibly slowly. I watch her ass move, my hands still locked on her chest, and bite my lip hard. She’s a fucking masterpiece. 

“Just like that,” I say, assisting with the oscillation of my hips, too. 

“You like that?” she asks, panting. “That’s good?” 

“So good.” 

She keeps moving, overlapping my hands on her breasts, and her noises begin not long after. Her moans are so delicious that I want to consume them, consume her, take everything she is and tuck it somewhere where no one else can see. I want to conserve every little thing about her and keep it all to myself. I can’t get enough of her, she’s so goddamn sexy. I can barely handle it.

She was cute before, when we were kids. Hot, even. But now, she’s older. She’s confident in her sexuality and she’s beautiful, sexier than anything I’ve ever seen or been with. 

When I come, I rush to get her there, too. My hand flies between her legs, rubbing her clit while she roughly grabs my arm and urges me along. 

“Oh, shit!” she cries, tensing as her hips buck and jerk on top of me. “Oh, fuck, geez, baby, oh my god…yes! Yes!” 

I come inside of her, long and hot, and turn her around after it’s over. She overlaps my body on the bed and kisses me with everything she has, opening her mouth hungrily on mine with her hands all over my chest.

“Mmm, oh my god,” she moans, hips still subtly grinding on my lower torso. “Jackson, I love you. I love you, I love you so much… let’s go again.” 

I don’t know if that’s the alcohol talking, but there’s no way I’m turning her down. 

…

In the morning, I edge into consciousness because of a faraway-sounding little voice. I furrow my eyebrows and open my eyes, blinking against the bright sunlight coming in through the blinds. 

“... Mommy? What’re you and Daddy doing in your bed? And why do you guys have no PJs on?” 

I’m still not all the way awake or alive. I’m just rolling over when April scrambles to cover her bare chest with the sheet, shielding Theo’s eyes as she whips it up over my naked ass. 

“Damn it,” she mutters under her breath. “Oh, god.”

“Mommy, swear jar.”

“Yes, Theo,” April says, her voice risen an octave. “Um… can you… um, can do you a favor for Mommy and grab my purple t-shirt from the chair over there?” 

I make no motion to leave. I just smile at the two of them, eyes over my shoulder, and April slips the shirt on over her head. 

“Good boy,” she says. “Honey, um… go… go find an outfit for today, okay?” 

“So you can get not naked? Mama, I saw Daddy’s booty. It was big.” 

“Theo!” April says, but I can hear the laugh in her voice. “Please, go find a pair of clean jeans and a polo. I will be right there to help you.” 

When he leaves the room, I roll fully onto my back and look at her. She’s rubbing her temples, half-dressed from the waist up. 

“I’m hungover,” she says. “My head hurts like hell, and I’m pretty sure my six-year-old just saw my naked chest.” 

I chuckle, and she sighs when she looks down at me. She’s wearing an expression in her eyes that I can’t quite read. 

“You’re seeing someone,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I… I just was an accomplice to cheating. This is horrible. We shouldn’t have… we weren’t thinking… we were drunk, oh my god. Jackson, what the hell did we do? You’re involved!” 

“Do you really think I’d be with her had I known?” I say, surprising even myself. “That you were out here, being you? That that little dude existed?” I reach and swipe a piece of hair from her eyes. “No.” 

She swallows. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re seeing her and last night… happened.” 

“It definitely happened.” 

She can’t fight her smile on that one.

My mind is hazy from last night, but I can remember that things were said, words exchanged. And not light ones, either. But right now, I can't make sense of them - if they were both of us just acting stupid drunk, or if those intoxicated words meant more than we let on.

“I’m gonna make things right,” I say. “It’s gonna be messy and… I’m not sure how I’ll do it, but I’ll fix this.” 

She doesn’t seem fully sold on the idea, but she nods anyway. “I’m gonna go try not to give our son the sex talk,” she says, slinking out of bed. Before she can get far, I slap her ass and get smacked in return before she pulls on a pair of pajama pants. 

I lie there in bed and listen to the rise and fall of my girl and my son’s voices. I wasn’t rational last night - I know my actions weren’t morally sound. I know I betrayed Steph, and I’m a liar and a cheat and all those horrible things. But what I hate most is that I can’t find it within myself to regret it. 

Last night, April and I connected on a level I never thought we’d return to. Every feeling I’ve ever had for her resurfaced tenfold. She’s not only the mother of my beautiful child, but the love of my life. She’s never lost her spot as the love of my life. 

“Why was your bed all messed up?” Theo asks. I can hear them talking from his room. “The sheets were all crumply. You say to always make your bed, mama. Were you and Daddy roughhousing?” 

April clears her throat and pauses before speaking. “Yes, baby.” 

“At night? You’re supposed to be sleeping. Did you stay up past bedtime?” 

She must answer, but I can’t hear. His barrage of questions continues. 

“His boobies were dark,” Theo says. “This part.” He must point to himself, but of course I can’t see. “Why, mommy?” 

“Because he has brown skin,” April says. 

“Mine aren’t that dark.” 

“Your skin is a mix of mine and Daddy’s,” she says. “So, it’s a little lighter.” 

“Why was there hair on his chest, mama?” Theo asks. “Did it fall off his head? Are we gonna have to go back to Kenny Mac’s?” 

I don’t hear an answer this time. 

“Your skin’s turning pink… Mommy, are you sunburnt?” 

“Theo…” April says. “Let’s just get dressed, okay? You don’t worry about what Mommy and Daddy were up to, okay? We like to do grownup things sometimes, after you go to bed. So, you don’t even need to think about them.” 

“I’ll try.” 

A little while later, I get up and put clothes on, then walk out to where Theo is eating cereal at the kitchen table. 

“You wore that shirt yesterday, daddy,” he says. “We aren’t allowed to pick out of the dirty basket, even if it smells okay.” 

“My bad,” I say. “I forgot to pack a new shirt.” 

“Because you didn’t know you were having a sleepover with Mommy in her bed?” 

I clear my throat, a bit uncomfortably. “Right.” 

“I saw your booty.” 

I close my eyes and press my lip together. “Sorry about that, little man.”

“I don’t care. It’s just a booty. Everybody has one. Even my mom.” 

“I think I knew that,” I say, and earn myself a swat from April as she passes.

“No hitting, mama!” Theo says. “Daddy, will you take me to school today?” 

I’m surprised by his question. So far, he hasn’t expressed interest in doing anything with me without April present.

“With mom?” I ask. 

“No, just you.” 

I meet April’s eyes where she stands in the kitchen. “It’s fine with me,” she says. “But I want you to be safe. Hold his hand when you cross the street, and-” 

“I’ll tell him, mommy,” Theo says. “We have to hold hands, even when there’s a crossing guard. And wait for the walk sign. But sometimes we can run stop signs, but only if Mom’s holding your hand and saying go, go, go!” 

“Got it,” I say, feeling honored that he wants me today. “Awesome.” 

Theo finishes breakfast and puts on his shoes, and once both of our coats are on, April lingers by the front door wringing her hands.

“We’ll be fine,” I say. “I promise.”

“I know,” she says. “He knows the way. He’ll show you.” 

“I can come back here, after…” I say, trailing off.

“I have to get to work,” she says. “But I’ll call you at lunch.”

Then, routinely, we both lean in for a kiss. When we break apart, Theo’s eyes are wide and wondering as he dissects what he just saw. 

“Have a good day, teddy bear,” April says, kneeling to give him a big hug. “Give me a fact before you go.” 

“Teddy Roosevelt was president when was 42,” Theo says. “Which means he’s still the youngest president out of anyone!” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” April says. “Okay. Have a good day. I’ll be there to pick you up later.” 

As we walk out the door, Theo habitually takes my hand, looks up and says, “You kissed her.” 

“We did kiss, you’re right,” I say. 

“Do you love my mom?” he asks. “She says you only kiss people you love.” 

“I-” 

I’m about to answer his question, but when we get to the main floor of the apartment building, flashes and a big group of photographers meet us at the front door. When they see us approaching, they all start shouting at once and Theo throws himself at me, face in my stomach and arms wrapped around my thighs. 

“Shit,” I say. “Okay, come on, bud. We’re going back upstairs.” 

We open the door back up and April comes out of the bathroom, putting on one earring and looking confused. “What’s-” 

Before she can finish, Theo pushes away from me and flies into her arms. She squats down and hugs him while looking at me with an anxious, alarmed expression. 

“What is going on?” she asks.

“Paps are downstairs,” I say. 

“What?” her voice rises and she clutches Theo tighter. “How are they…? Jackson, how did they find the apartment? How do they know where we live? How did they know you were here? Is someone following us? Do they have eyes on-” 

“Peach, breathe.” 

“Don’t call me that right now!” 

I look at her face, pink and pinched. To her, Theo is in danger and she’s on high alert. She takes his backpack off, lifts him into her arms, and holds him close like a baby. 

“Hold on,” I say, then pull up TMZ on my phone. Just as I feared, I see the headline almost right away. 

_**BABY MAMA DRAMA? SEATTLE SEAHAWKS QUARTERBACK JACKSON AVERY SEEN WITH STRANGE WOMAN AND POSSIBLE SON. THE RESEMBLANCE WILL SHOCK YOU!** _

I scroll down further, unable to believe what I’m reading. 

_ **EXCLUSIVE: JACKSON AVERY’S HIGH SCHOOL YEARBOOK - MYSTERY GIRL, FOUND?** _

“Fuck.” 

“What is it?” April says, hurrying over.

I waste no time in showing her the screen. She holds the back of Theo’s head and stares at me, eyes wide and mouth even wider. There are pictures of the three of us on the train from the other day, all in a row, from when I spent some time signing autographs for fans. I didn’t know someone would stoop so low as to sell a picture of the three of us to TMZ. And after that, are our grainy school pictures, copied and pasted next to each other. 

“My son’s face,” April says, voice shaking. “Is on the cover of an internet magazine. That’s my son’s face! For everyone to see!” 

“Our son,” I correct.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” she says, a wall of tears threatening to spill. 

“It always matters!” 

Theo starts to cry, loud and wailing over April’s shoulder. She throws me a heavy look and rubs his back, kissing the side of his head as she tries to calm him. 

“I want those down,” April says, and the tears fall as her lower lip trembles. “I want them down right now, Jackson. I’ve spent his whole life protecting-” 

“I know,” I snap, feeling equally as helpless. “I’m trying here.” 

She walks away, muttering softly to Theo. It’s obvious he won’t be going to school today, since we can’t even get out of the building. I need to call my security and get them over here; it was stupid to not have them here in the first place. I just got so caught up - I forgot that a normal life isn’t really in the cards for me anymore.

But with April and Theo, it felt like I was living one for a little while. Like we were in our own happy, domestic bubble for half a second. But now it’s popped. 

I had set down my phone, and when I pick it up again I see call after call and text after texting streaming in. From Hank Roberts, my manager, and from Steph. 

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, and swipe over Hank’s number. 

“What the fuck, Avery?” I hear instantly.

“Hello to you, too.” 

“First of all, you all but fuckin’ disappear. You’re still in Chicago, doing who knows what. Well, I guess I know what! You’re hangin’ out with your wife and kid!”

I raise my eyebrows and let out a long breath. “I’m figuring it out,” I say.

“For the sake of your career, you better ‘figure it out’ fast,” he says. “If you haven’t forgotten, you still got a girl back here. And the media knows that, and they’re gonna run with it. And since when do you have a goddamn kid?” 

“Since…” I say. My eyes dart down the hallway towards Theo’s room, where he and April are. “I don’t want to discuss this right now,” I say. “I’ll come back to Seattle, be there by tonight. I’ll smooth everything over with the press and Steph. It’ll be fine. Listen, I’m just as surprised as you are.” 

“Believe me, that’s not true,” he says. “But you better get your ass back here. You need to do some serious cleanup. I’m not doing all this fuckin’ work for you!”

He hangs up the phone and I’m left frustrated and at a loss. I don’t want to leave Chicago, but I know I have to. My life is back in Washington, and as much as I’d like to ditch it for the two of them, that’s impossible. I’m bound by a handful of contracts. This is much more complicated than I’d originally thought. 

I text Steph. I can’t bear to call her right now, because I don’t have the time to explain. I’m going to have to catch a flight, and quick. 

**SENT, 8:24am - hey. Sorry i missed ur calls, things are pretty crazy right now. Im coming home to explain it all. Be at the airport by this afternoon, at my place by dinner. Stop over and we can talk.**

Quickly, I buy a plane ticket and click my phone off, walking down the hall to break the bad news to April and Theo, who won’t like it. I’m not looking forward to their reactions. I peek into Theo’s room and find them both sitting on the floor with LEGOs, voices not any higher than a light whisper. 

“April,” I say, and catch her attention. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” 

She nods, kissing Theo’s head as she stands. I walk away from his door with my arms crossed over my chest, and she looks at me, guarded and curious. 

“I have to go back to Seattle,” I say, and her expression morphs instantly. It changes so much over the course of a split second, I can’t keep track of where it lands. I see confusion, anger, frustration, fright, defiance, and sadness. It’s all so much. 

“What?” 

“I need to clean this up,” I say. “And I can’t do it from here. There’s just… I have business I have to take care of there. And I have to play. I’ve been gone for a long time. I… I’ll only stay for as long as I have to, but I don’t know how long that’ll be.” 

Her lower lip trembles and my chest feels like it’s cracking.

“I’ll leave my security here with you,” I say. “Someone will go to school with Theo, to work with you, and be stationed at the house. They won’t let anything like this happen again. I swear.” 

She’s still quiet. I’m not sure if she knows how to respond. 

“I’ll see you soon, somehow,” I say. “Whether that means me coming back, or flying you guys to me, I’ll figure it out. I’ll figure all this out. I promise.” 

She nods slightly, a tear dripping from each eye to slip beneath her chin. 

“Oh, Peach,” I say, then hold her face in both hands. I kiss her, sweet and soft, and taste the salt on her lips. “This is only temporary. I’m not losing either of you. Not again.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**APRIL**

_ **UPTOWN, CHICAGO, PRESENT** _

When the door shuts behind Jackson, my mind is spinning so fast that I have to lean against the wall. 

I rest with my face in my hands, shoulder slumped inwards, wondering what we did. What we did, and what will happen next. Last night is fuzzy, coming back in bits and pieces. I drank way too much wine. I felt myself drinking too much wine, and I let it happen.

I think I knew what would come of it, and didn’t want to fight it anymore. 

I can’t bring myself to regret our decision. But I’m pretty sure there were words exchanged between the sheets - heavy words, serious words - that there’s no way of taking back. 

I hear his voice ringing in my ears now,  _ let’s get married _ . 

And I said something about the forever bracelets marrying us years ago. We’d spoken so nonchalantly, neither of us shocked or perturbed by the other’s declaration. It was like we were airing out something we both already knew. 

But now, he’s gone. Now, I’m in my familiar apartment with my son, just like how things used to be. I can’t even smell Jackson in the air; it’s like he was never here at all.

I’m tempted to get my phone and pull up TMZ to see what kind of things they’re saying about us, but I know if I do, I’ll only get upset and probably do something irrational. Theo is in the next room. I have him right here with me. Under my wing, I can protect him. He’s right where he needs to be. 

Even though I refuse to look at the web pages, that doesn’t stop me from picturing them. I imagine Theo’s face plastered in the corner of popular gossip websites, his character sparking conversation between friends over coffee.

_ Did you hear that Jackson Avery has a love child? Did you hear he abandoned the mother while she was pregnant? I always thought he was a good guy. I guess all men are the same.  _

I clench my jaw, angry at the pretend conversation I’d made up. Jackson isn’t the same - he isn’t an everyday guy. He’s special. He’s different. He’s mine, he’s Theo’s. 

I pull out my phone and instead of digging for the articles, I find mine and Jackson’s thread of messages and start typing. 

**SENT, 9:02am- I know you’ll have to do interviews. But could you please talk about T as little as possible? I dont want info about him getting out. Privacy is really important to me. Thanks.**

I leave it dry on purpose, because I don’t know what my other options are. Thanks, love you? Thanks, kissy-face emoji? No, neither of those fit. And I’m not feeling those emotions right now, anyway. Right now, all I’m feeling is confused. And torn. And a deep sense of longing for something that I don’t think was ever mine.

Jackson showed up and left so quickly. Just as we were building our tower back up, the world knocked it down. 

I know better than anyone that life isn’t fair, but I thought we were finally catching our break. I guess I was wrong.

I shut off my phone without waiting for a response. I think it will do me some good to put it out of my mind, devoting my attention to Theo and only Theo for the rest of today. I set my phone on a table near the couch and rejoin my son in his room, where he’s still on the floor playing with LEGOs. 

As I sit next to him, he looks at me with those soulful green eyes and blinks slowly. 

“I builded a ship,” he says, and points to what he’s done. 

It’s impressive. He’s always been good with his hands. 

“That’s awesome,” I say, picking it up to examine it. “There’s even a little guy in there. What’s his name?”

“I don’t know,” Theo murmurs, and watches as I set it back down. “Did Daddy leave?” 

The expression on his face makes my breath catch in my throat. I chew on the inside of my cheek and nod while inhaling deeply. “Yeah,” I say. 

Theo looks down at his rug, rolling a Hot Wheels car along the printed-on road. He veers it off after a moment and rolls it my way, then drives up on my leg to wheel over my thigh. 

“He didn’t say bye to me,” he murmurs. 

It occurs to me that he’s right, Jackson didn’t. I frown, feeling my throat grow tight as my son’s sadness wafts off him in droves. 

“He wanted to,” I say, putting words in his father’s mouth. “But he had a plane to catch.”

“He went away on a plane?” Theo peeps, still rolling the car and not looking at me. 

“Yeah,” I say. “He had to go back to Seattle. He had a lot of stuff to figure out.” 

“Because of the people taking pictures.”

“Yes,” I say. “And he’s been gone from home for a long time. His people back there were missing him.” 

My son nods solemnly, absorbing this information. “But it’s not really fair,” he says. I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. 

“What’s not fair, baby?” 

“How come when those people miss him, he goes right back? But when I missed him, he didn’t even show up ‘til I’m 6?” 

I close my eyes to try and center myself, upset because I don’t have an answer. Not a clear one, at least. Suddenly, I regret every decision I’ve ever made. Leaving Ohio, keeping this little boy a secret, not letting Jackson in. I stole so much from Theo. This is all my fault, the way he’s feeling right now. 

“I don’t know, honey,” I say, and pull him onto my lap. “I just want you to know that I’m really, really sorry.” 

Theo wraps his arms around my neck and rests his cheek on my shoulder. “It’s okay, mama,” he whispers, and I squeeze him even tighter. 

Our day is spent quietly. We don’t turn the TV on, not even the radio. We play Theo’s favorite CDs, which are a mix of Maroon 5, Bruno Mars, and Fleetwood Mac, but not even his favorite music can draw us out of our funk. 

I get him to smile for the first time all day after lunch, when we’re lying in his bed for a nap. He doesn’t regularly sleep during the day, but it’s raining outside and he asked to rest. The thought of turning him down didn’t even cross my mind, so here we are, with full bellies, making hand puppets with our fingers. 

Theo laughs at how bad mine are. I make them extra-ugly just to see him grin. 

When his eyelids grow heavy and he blinks slower, I turn on my side and pull him close. “Are you okay?” I ask him. “Your daddy is coming back, I want you to know that. I don’t know when, but he is.” 

Theo is quiet for a moment, staring out the window beside his bed. I let my eyes roam his face, pausing on his perfect features as he parts his lips to speak. 

“Yeah,” he says, his voice light as a feather. “I didn’t get that much time to love Daddy, so I can try to stop being sad that he’s gone and things can go back to how they used to be.” His eyes move from the window to lock on mine. “Right, mommy? Me and you, like before?” 

I press my lips to his forehead and pinch my eyes shut tight. I hold him close, the only thing I’ve ever done right, and hope he knows how much I love him. 

He falls asleep before I can answer his question.

…

After our nap, Theo and I do some homework and eat dinner, then stay up too late watching movies. He falls asleep wrapped in a blanket on the couch, curled into a ball, and after he’s been out for a while, I carry him to bed like I used to. 

“Night, little man,” I say, petting back his short curls that look so much like Jackson’s. 

On the way out of his room, I practically trip on the plush Seahawk on the floor and catch myself with a hand on the wall. 

“Damn it,” I hiss, nudging it out of the way.

Looking at the toy only reminds me of who gave it to Theo, and his face won’t leave my mind after I leave the room and shut the door behind me.

I can’t ignore the tight feeling in my chest. I feel like all of my emotions are personified within my body, ready to burst out. I grip the back of the couch and lean forward, bottom teeth scraping my upper lip, and shake my head while grimacing.

I have to call him. I can’t keep all of this in, not again. 

As the phone rings, I have no idea what I’m going to say. I start crying and wonder if he’ll even answer, but eventually he does. 

“April?” 

I sniffle, trying to regain composure. “Hi,” I say. “Yeah.” 

“Are you okay? Are you crying?” 

I sniffle again, wiping beneath my eyes with my thumb, but new tears only replace the old. “Um… yeah,” I say.

“Is everything alright?”

I clear my throat and walk away from Theo’s room. The last thing I want is for him to wake up and hear me crying, then get worried. 

“No,” I say. “No, not really.” 

“What is it?” he asks. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I sit on the arm of the couch and stare out the window, but the glass is dark so all I see is my reflection staring back at me. I’m unrecognizable, teary-eyed and ragged, worn down from the emotions coursing through my body.

I pride myself on being strong. For myself, for my son, for everyone in my life. I spent a few years getting kicked when I was down, but I pulled us up and out of that life. We’re doing much better now, at least we were. Now, the twisted feeling in my gut tells me we’re edging our way back to that place. It scares me to even consider.

“I don’t feel like myself,” I say. “Jackson. I depend on me. Just me. And this past week or so, that wasn’t happening.” I inhale and it rattles in my chest. “I wasn’t depending on myself for anything really. To take care of Theo, for money, even for happiness. I was leaning on you.” 

“What’s wr-” 

“No,” I say. “And then you go and take it away. It was a mistake, putting all of that on you, and I know that’s on me. Just like everything else, that’s my fault. And I was stupid for doing it, because you did exactly what I was scared you would when you first showed up. You left.” 

I start to cry harder, I can’t help it. Tears stream down my face of their own volition and my voice raises in pitch, though I try to keep it at a reasonable level. 

“I feel empty now!” I say. “Theo and I are wrecked. Things felt right, you know? When you were here. It felt like we were a family, like I somehow went back in time and took back what I did, and you were here. It felt like things are supposed to feel. I’m always so jealous of those families I see at his school, both the mom and dad coming to pick their kid up. And for a few days, we got to be that. But we were just playing pretend, Jackson! Did you know that the whole time?” 

I try and catch my breath, but it doesn’t do much.

“I don’t just have to deal with my own confusion,” I say. “I have to deal with his, too. You didn’t even say goodbye to him, Jackson. Didn’t even spare five seconds to say goodbye to your son. You hurt him.”

“I-I know, I’m sorry. That wasn’t right.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” I say. “And neither of us are doing all that great since you left. And all I can think of is that… is that…” 

As I stutter, the anger builds within me. Unbridled rage, all directed at him. I don’t know if it’s warranted, but there’s no stopping it. 

“It would’ve been easier if you’d just stayed gone,” I say, and my shoulders collapse after the words come out. I start sobbing with my head hung low, body trembling with feeling. I’m pushing him away, but what I want more than anything is for him to be here, holding me and telling me that everything will be okay. 

But I can’t stop punishing him for what I did. 

The tone of Jackson’s voice changes when he speaks again. “April,” he sighs, and takes a deep breath. “Listen to yourself. Are you really looking for easy? Because I’m not.” 

I sniffle and try to breathe so I can listen to what he’s saying. 

“You don’t mean that,” he says. “I know you don’t. You’re lashing out, and that’s okay, but you need to get things straight. If you remember, it wasn’t my choice to be apart from you all this time.”

“Are you saying that I’m getting a taste of my own medicine now?” I ask, snapping. 

“No, listen to me,” he retorts. “I know you regret what you did. I saw it on your face that very first night, so I vowed to never spend time making you feel guilty for it.” 

“So, stop throwing it back in my face every time you get upset.”

“I need you to let me talk for one second,” he says. Somehow his voice stays firm and even. 

I shut my mouth and let him talk. 

“I saw the look on your face when you handed me his school picture and told me I had a son. I saw everything, April, everything in your eyes. The regret, the sadness, the joy that I was gonna get to know him. And I felt all those things, too. And you’ve apologized. I’ve come to grips with it, you know? We can’t get that time back. But why are you trying to get it back? Why are you keeping me at arm’s length to try and phase me out of your life again?” 

I don’t know what to say. I pull my lower lip into my mouth and hold the phone with both of my shaking hands. 

“You’re scared,” he says. “I get that. So am I. You’re used to a certain kind of life, and I am, too. But neither of us are going to have those lives anymore.” 

I can’t speak. I don’t know what I’d say. He’s hitting the nail right on the head, saying things I couldn’t put into words myself. 

There’s a long pause, though, and I shut my eyes. Tears leak out and wash down my cheeks, leaving warm trails in their wake. 

“You can’t leave like I did,” I say. “I know how easy it is. Not easy to leave the person, but easy to just go. Buy a ticket, start your life somewhere else, and go. It’s simple. And you can’t… Theo needs you.” 

He doesn’t waste any time responding. “You need me,” he says.

I open my mouth and only a small sound comes out. My thoughts come to a screeching halt. 

“And I need you,” he says. “I need you both.” 

I cry harder, new emotions coursing through me. Gratitude, realization, unending warmth. I want him more than ever. I want to wrap myself up in him and shield myself from the world with his strength. Because it seems he has more of it than I do at the moment. 

“This isn’t permanent,” he says. “My being here. I just have to fix some things before we can move forward and figure out what’s going on with us.” 

I cover my face with one hand and dissolve into tears again, sobbing so hard I don’t make any sound. 

“I’m sorry, Peach,” he says, and I hear the melancholy tone of his voice. “I really am. I wish I could be there. Please, don’t cry.” 

I catch my breath long enough to speak. “I love you,” I say. “I meant it when I said it in bed. I really love you, Jackson.” 

I can hear the smile in his voice when he returns the sentiment. “I love you, too,” he says. “So much.” 

…

The next morning, I wake up on time and hear the TV on in the living room. Theo must have woken up early, now waiting for me to help him get ready for school. 

I trudge out in my slippers, tying my robe as I walk into the room behind the couch, trailing my hand over the back. “Morning, teddy,” I say, voice raspy. 

“Hi, mama,” he says. 

The TV plays a holiday commercial. It’s nearing Thanksgiving, but it’s been showing for weeks already. 

“Whatcha watching?” I ask.

I sit down on the ottoman, close to where he is on the floor, elbows on my knees. 

“Morning show,” he says, shrugging. He glances at the screen, sees it’s still on commercial, and looks back to me. He stands up and walks between my knees, wrapping his arms tight around my neck in a big hug. “Don’t be sad, mommy.” 

I hold him just as tightly, furrowing my eyebrows. “What do you mean, little man?” I ask. 

He pulls away, but our faces stay inches apart. I can see every thought swimming behind his green eyes. 

“You were crying last night, really hard,” he says. “But I don’t want you to be sad. Don’t cry, mama. I’ll make you feel better. Because I know you miss Daddy but you did before, too, and we were still happy before we even knew him. And I’m still here. You’re not going anywhere, right mama?” 

“No,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

He hugs me again. “I won’t let you be sad,” he says. 

I kiss his warm, soft cheek, closing my eyes to soak up this moment. “I love you,” I tell him. “You’re the best thing God ever gave me.” 

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. 

The TV switches back to the program from the commercial, and I see that Good Morning America is on. Robin Roberts is on the screen, looking sharp in red, talking to the camera. 

“This morning, our special guest is someone whose answers have been highly coveted these past couple days,” she says. “Luckily, he decided to come here and see us first. I’d like to welcome the one and only, Jackson Avery.” 

My shoulders tense. Theo stays where he is, standing between my knees, and I wrap my arms around him. 

“Did you know your daddy was going to be on this show?” I ask. 

“I read it on the Guide,” he says. “I’m sorry, mama.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” I say, attention stolen by the sight of Jackson walking onto the stage to join Robin on a high stool. He looks great, dressed in black slacks and a dark green sweater with a collar underneath. I smile to myself, knowing someone else must have dressed him. If it were up to him, he’d be in a god-awful hoodie and a pair of jeans. 

Both of us are enraptured by the TV, unable to tear our eyes away, as Jackson speaks. His voice is low and smooth, like butter.

“Morning, Robin,” he says. “Thanks for having me.” 

“No, thank you,” she says. “Thank you for joining us. A lot of people are trying to get a hold of you, I’m sure. We’re honored you chose us.” 

He laughs gently and nods, keeping the easy smile on his face. 

“You have a lot of buzz surrounding you right now,” Robin says. “As I’m sure you know.” 

“I’m fully aware, yes,” Jackson says.

“So, let’s get into it, without any sugarcoating,” she says, tone still amiable. “Clear this up for us. You… have a son?” 

“I do have a son,” he says. “That is true. “

Theo’s energy changes before me. He turns to make eye contact, and I see the excitement in his gaze before he turns back to the screen. 

“A son, but not with the girl you’ve been seeing in Seattle? Steph Edwards, your girlfriend of one year.” 

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “She’s not the mother, correct.” 

“So, with the risk of being too forward, who is the mother of this beautiful little boy?”

My stomach is alive with nerves. I feel like I might throw up. The last thing I wanted to see was Jackson on television, laying everything out for the world. This information is private, I thought I made it clear that I wanted it to stay that way. So far, he hasn’t said anything expository, but the interview’s only just begun. 

“My high school sweetheart,” he says. “TMZ wasn’t wrong on that, for once.” 

“How sweet,” Robin says. “You don’t hear stories like this much anymore.” 

“No,” Jackson says. “You really don’t.” 

“So, let’s dive deeper,” she says. “Why are we only just finding out about this situation? Why have you been hiding it from us?”

I watch his face, the micro-expressions no one else will see. He’s trying desperately to formulate an answer, I can tell that much. I pray to God that he won’t let too much go. 

By doing this interview, it must mean that he’s broken up with Steph already. At least, that’s what I assume. Maybe I should’ve asked last night, when he told me he loved me. When he told me he needed me. 

“There are certain things in life that do need to be kept private,” he says. “My son is six. He lives in Chicago, with his mom. He doesn’t need to be experiencing all that attention, and neither does she.”

“Chicago,” Robin says. “The choice is interesting. Why would she live there, while you’re all the way in Seattle? Have they ever visited? Ever come to see you play?” 

His mouth opens and closes, replaced with a glossy, fake smile. “Not yet,” he says. “Soon.” 

“So, what went wrong?” she asks. “Your child and his mother live on their own, while you make a living across the country with a girlfriend. How did that come to be? There’s something about this whole situation that just feels off, Jackson. You probably understand.” 

He clears his throat. “I do,” he says. “And rightfully so. Um, you know, if I’m being completely honest, which I try to be… uh, I didn’t find out about Theo until very recently.” 

“Theo,” Robin repeats. “Adorable.” 

Jackson’s eyes flash as he realizes what he’s let loose. “My son,” he says. “My son.” 

I blink quickly, still watching the screen as he vaguely explains our setup, but not hearing a single word. I feel like I’m trapped in a bubble now, one that I wish I could keep myself and Theo in to protect us. Jackson not only just said his name on national television, but people know where we live, and they now know mine and Jackson’s story. 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I don’t know what Jackson thinks he’s accomplishing with this interview, but he didn’t have the two of us in mind. 

Suddenly, his words from last night trickle out of my head and all I can think about is how selfish he’s being. Saving his image by lumping us into it, using his son as a fallback as to why he was seen with another woman while still dating Steph. 

When the interview is over, I tell Theo to go pick out an outfit while I find my phone and dial Jackson’s number. I assume he’ll have a free moment to answer. I don’t know what I plan on saying yet, but I know it won’t be pleasant. And if he’s still schmoozing with the Good Morning America people, I have no problem leaving a voicemail. 

But after the second ring, the phone gets picked up. I expect to hear that familiar deep voice, but instead hear a different one - melodic, high-pitched and most importantly, female. 

“Hello?”

My lips part and I blink hard, unable to believe what I’m hearing. I’ve heard Steph’s voice on TV before, and I have no doubt this is her. I hang up the call, pressing the red button over and over with my thumb, and feel hot tears behind my eyes. He’s still with her. 

Everything he said last night was a lie. 

**_MOLINE, OHIO, 8 YEARS AGO_ **

It’s a Saturday afternoon in late fall, our one-year anniversary. I’m sitting on Jackson’s couch in a plaid skirt, white tights, and a sweater, waiting for him to finish wrapping the gift he got me.

I’ve already given him mine. I saved up all my allowance and bought him a new iPod, which he’s been dying for. It’s green, his favorite color, with all his favorite music already loaded onto it. 

“I’m not getting any younger in here!” I call, giggling. 

“Anything else outta you and I’m taking this back,” he says. 

I giggle again, crossing my legs and leaning my head back against the couch. I’m messing with a thread on my sweater when he finally comes out, holding a rectangular box with both hands. He was wearing short sleeves before, and now he has on long, though I’m not sure why. 

“Okay,” he says. “For you, my impatient, beautiful girlfriend.”

I extend my fingers out to reach for the box, and he gives it to me with a kiss on the cheek. 

“Happy one-year, Peach.”

I unwrap it slowly and lift the lid, finding that what sits on top of the soft cotton is a silver bracelet with a plate in the middle. When I look closer, I see the word ‘forever’ is etched onto the plate in script. 

“Oh, my god,” I say. 

“Let me put it on you,” he says, and I give him my arm. He clasps the bracelet easily and I turn it so it’ll catch the light. As I do that, he pulls up his sleeve and shows me that he’s wearing its twin. 

“You have one, too?” I ask, reaching to run my finger over it. 

“Yeah. It’s like a promise,” he says, lifting his eyes from our wrists to meet mine. “Forever.” 

“A big promise,” I say, holding his hands. As I blink slowly into his eyes, I’ve never felt love like this before. I come to realize that my entire world could fall apart, but if I still had him, it would be okay. As long as I always have him, everything will work out. “Let’s not ever take them off.”

He nods, agreeing. “I’ll love you forever,” he says. “I know it’s just been a year for us, but…” He shrugs, face flushing. “April, it’ll be forever.” 

“Forever,” I repeat, getting closer and pressing the side of my nose to his. I close my eyes and drink him in, looping my arms over his shoulders. “I love you, baby.” 

We have sex right there on his couch. Slow, gorgeous, intimate sex that seems to erase all constraints and limits of time itself. He buries himself in my body and makes it his temple, showing how much he loves me and making me feel more beautiful than I ever have before. He worships me, and to me, he’s the closest thing to holy. 

As we lie there together after it’s over, there isn’t an inch of our bodies that don’t touch. With one arm thrown around his waist, my face is tucked into the crook of his neck and I watch his pulse thrum steadily through his skin. I drag my fingertips over his chest, feeling his arm tighten around me just slightly, and kiss his collarbone. 

“You know what I thought of?” I say, finding his free arm and pulling his wrist to my face so I can kiss it. I kiss the inside of it, the soft, vulnerable skin, and kiss the plate of the bracelet. It’s cool against my lips, just like it was cool against other parts of my body while we had sex. 

“What?” 

“We’d make the prettiest babies.” 

Cocooned in the balmy afterglow of what we did, he doesn’t blink twice at the sentiment of what I said. In fact, he even smiles because of it. “We will,” he said. “We definitely will.” 

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, FOUR YEARS AGO_ **

Kneeling at the side of Theo’s bed, I stroke the side of his face as I sing him to sleep. 

“They didn’t have you where I come from…” I begin, voice soft as a whisper. “Never knew the best was yet to come… life began when I saw your face, and I hear your laugh like a serenade…” 

He’s two years old, still so much a baby. His plush lips grow slack, pouting as he falls deeper asleep, and his eyelashes flutter.

“How long do you wanna be loved?” I sing. “Is forever enough, is forever enough?” 

I kiss his forehead, finger-combing through his curls with a gentle hand. As I lower my arm, the familiar bracelet glints in the light and slips down my wrist to rest on the swell of my hand, drooping like it always does when I move in such a way. 

My eyes center on it, focusing more than usual. Most of the time, it doesn’t catch my attention. It’s a part of me, as everyday as my freckles or fingernail polish. But tonight - tonight, it sticks. 

I leave Theo’s room and walk to mine, opening the closet to find a box that usually stays hidden. It’s an old shoebox, and I lift the lid after I blow the dust off, sitting on the end of my bed. 

It’s full of pictures from my past. Of my family, old friends, old lover. It’s a personification of everything I used to be, everything I’ll never be again, no matter how hard I wish, or how hard I try. I won’t ever be that carefree, high school girl again. Even though I’m young, barely 20, I’m a fully-functional adult with a child to look after. A single mother. 

It’s silly to keep retracing my steps back to the girl whose mask I once wore. Now, I have nothing like that. My persona is stripped and bare, hardworking to the point of exhaustion, but full of love for that little boy. 

I won’t ever get my old life back. It’s a stupid, whimsical thought.

But I dig through the pictures anyway. I don’t know why I do it, I know it’ll only hurt, but I don’t stop myself. I don’t even try. 

I brush aside the ones of my family. They aren’t the people I think about anymore, it was easy to let them go. I always held onto a romanticized image of them, anyway. Even if I did contact them, they’d never accept me back. They don’t know where I am, and they don’t want to. If they knew, they’d be ashamed. They’d disown me further, if possible. 

No, the picture I seek out is Jackson’s senior picture. When I find it, I can’t help the smile that grows on my face. The corners are peeling and faded, though it isn’t very old. The grin on his face is bright and it reaches his eyes. He was so happy that day. 

We were at the park with a professional photographer his mother had paid for, but couldn’t be there to supervise. She got pictures of Jackson leaning against countless trees, posing on bridges, leaning against old buildings. All very artsy. But my favorite image, the one I’m holding in my hands right now, is candid.

His eyes aren’t on the lens, they’re off to the side. Looking to where I was standing and making him laugh. I can’t remember what I said now, but by the look on his face it must have been funny. He’s standing in the middle of a field covered with lush green grass, wearing a deep red button-down shirt. His arms are halfway crossed like he’d broken the pose to crack up, and I wish I could bottle his happiness and keep it in a jar to unlock whenever I need it. 

I’ve been needing it a lot lately. 

I turn the photo over. Still there, in his horrible handwriting, it says:  _ LOVE YOU, PEACHY _ . 

He had kept the message short and sweet, thinking we’d have all the time in the world for longer sentiments. But it turns out, we didn’t. I wonder, if he’d known I would leave, what he would have written instead.

I close the shoebox, depositing Jackson’s senior picture gently back inside. I replace the box where I found it, deep inside my closet, and close the doors. 

The bracelet’s weight on my wrist is heavier than ever. I feel its cold metal brushing against my skin and know for a fact that forever isn’t always true, isn’t always real. Sometimes, life happens and people mess it up. Sometimes, you have unprotected sex and hide a pregnancy, then have a secret baby on the backseat of a Greyhound bus.

Life is just funny that way. 

I don’t know what Jackson is up to now, but I know it’s nothing that involves me, or thoughts of me. And it shouldn’t be. I abandoned him with a half-ass, vague explanation. Even though it was for the greater good, for selfless reasons, I still can’t help but taste the sour flavor of guilt every time he crosses my mind. 

And he crosses my mind a lot. 

I sit down again near my nightstand, then turn my wrist so the inside faces out. The clasp of the forever bracelet hasn’t been touched for years, not since Jackson put it on me. I still remember our promise to never take them off, when the concept of forever was still something realistic and tangible. I know now our forever doesn’t exist. 

Jackson probably took his off right after I left. I shouldn’t hang onto him anymore. It isn’t doing anyone any good. 

So, I lock my fingers around the clasp and undo it. It’s easier than I expected, coming open like nothing at all. When it sits in my hand, crumpled like a memory, it feels so insubstantial. It’s a small scrap of metal, diminished from the lifelong promise it had once been.

I open my nightstand drawer and drop the bracelet in, closing it right after.

That chapter was finished long ago, but tonight it feels like the last page has been ripped out and burned.

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, PRESENT_ **

This morning, I had woken up with Jackson’s sweet words in my head and thought our forever was rectified. There was a newborn hope within me that maybe, I was right to have saved the bracelet all this time, resisted the urge to throw it away with all the irrational dreams I had for us to reunite. 

It wasn’t silly to keep it, after all. Before I got dressed, I told myself that I would wear it today. I would put it back on and reopen the book, starting right at the chapter where we’d left off. We could rebuild our world from the ground up. 

But now, fighting tears as I storm into my room to turn the shower on and go about my day, I glance at the nightstand next to my bed. I shake my head, knowing very well that that drawer will stay closed. 


	8. Chapter 8

JACKSON

**_NEW YORK CITY, PRESENT_ **

I walk with purpose away from the sound stage, straightening my shirt and knowing what I said was all wrong. April had texted not long ago telling me to keep their privacy under wraps, and I basically just opened my mouth to the whole world. 

I’ve been in the spotlight for a while, but I’ve never gotten used to the lights and cameras in my face. I always make a fool of myself and say things I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have ever agreed to come on this show. I should’ve known something like this would happen. 

I felt the need, though, just to clear the air. If I didn’t, the outlets would keep hounding me. The paparazzi would go crazy, only wanting more because of the smidgen of information they were baited with. I felt like I had no choice in saying my piece at least once, just to get it out of the way. 

But I said a lot more than just my piece. I spoke about April and Theo when they weren’t present to defend themselves, and I know nothing good will come of it. 

First of all, I said Theo’s name, which wasn’t supposed to happen. I close my eyes and massage my temples, shaking my head when my assistant offers me a water bottle. 

“Not now, Gloria,” I say.

She backs off. “Is there something I can do?” she asks. 

“I need my phone.” 

I keep my eyes closed as she goes and gets it for me, and open them when she clears her throat in front of me. As she extends her arm with my the phone in her hand, she opens her mouth to speak.

“You got a-”

But I’m not in the mood to hear a word of how my interview went, whether she’s going to tell me it went great or horribly. I don’t care, right now, about whatever comes out of her mouth. I’m aware of how harsh that sounds, but she isn’t the woman on the forefront of my mind. 

“I have a call to make,” I say, cutting her off. 

She raises her eyebrows and shuts her mouth, looking perturbed as she walks away and gives me the space I desperately need. I dug a hole for myself, and now I need to try and get out of it. 

I tap on the telephone icon on the screen, looking for April’s number, and see I got a call from her fifteen minutes ago, a call that’d been answered. I narrow my eyes, then it dawns on me that Gloria must have picked up. She’s the only one with permission to answer my phone, and she probably deemed it important seeing as it was April on the other end. 

It says the call only lasted for 21 seconds, though. That’s barely anything, hardly enough time to ring. 

Hoping to figure it out when she answers, I tap on the number and her face lights up my screen as the call connects. It’s a picture I took in her kitchen; she’s leaning forward with her hands on the island, a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. I stare at the picture for so long that I almost don’t notice the call going to voicemail. 

“Hey, you’ve reached April Kepner. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but leave me a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks!” 

A beep resounds in my ear, making me frown. It’s unlike her not to pick up the phone, especially when I’m calling. I know she’s pissed about the interview, but I figured she’d want to talk about it. At least, that she’d want to yell at me. I was prepared for that, I still am. 

I glance at the clock. It’s around 8:30am in Chicago, which means she’s taking Theo to school right about now. So, of course she can’t answer. She’s busy with our son. I tell myself to call back in a half hour, when she’ll be on the train to work. 

“Gloria,” I say, sliding off the tall chair I was sitting on. She turns to look at me with a irritated look on her face. “I’m sorry for being short. Did April call?”

“Yes,” she says, turning around and busying herself with whatever she’d been doing. “I answered, but she hung up.” 

“She didn’t say anything?” I ask.

“Nope,” Gloria answers. “I said ‘hello,’ heard a breath, then the call disconnected.” She turns to look at me again, more confused and curious this time. “Why? What was it about?”

“I don’t know,” I say, looking at my phone. “I’m trying to find out.” I sigh. “She’s probably pissed. Well, no. I know she’s pissed.” 

“Why?” 

“I said too much,” I say. “I always fuckin’ say too much.” 

“That’s not news.” 

I chuckle humorlessly. “Yeah, I know,” I say. “But she doesn’t. And she asked me not to… man, I just fucked up. And I need to get ahold of her so I can make things right.” 

Gloria eyes me again. 

“What?” I say. 

“What happened with you and Steph?” 

I click my phone off and slide it into my back pocket. “I, uh…” I say, shaking my head and raising my eyebrows. “I told her everything last night. It was… you know, a lot. She was pretty mad at me for not telling her sooner, and for lying the whole time I was in Chicago, basically.” I clear my throat. “She broke up with me before I could. Which made me feel a little better, actually.” 

“You deserved it.” 

“Yeah,” I admit. “I did. I know that.” 

Gloria turns her back again. “I liked Steph.” 

“I know you did,” I say. “I did, too.” 

“What you did was cruel,” she says.

“I know,” I snap. “I’m perfectly aware. You rubbing it in isn’t helping much. You’re my assistant, not my therapist. And I have a lot more on my mind than just that, so I’m gonna need you to lay off.” 

She shoots me another look as she breezes by, and I feel a headache coming on. Suddenly, it feels like everyone in the world is against me. 

…

The hours tick by. As I’m in the car on the way to the airport, heading back to Seattle, I call April again and again. But after the tenth time, I get the picture that she doesn’t plan on answering, so I send her a text. 

**SENT, 12:48pm- hey april, i know youre mad. I know what i did was messed up and im sorry. But i really need you to answer, id really like to talk to you about all this. Ignoring me isnt gonna help.**

I stare at the message screen and wait for the read receipt to come up, or even better, a typing bubble. But neither of those things happen. I check repeatedly until I’m on the plane and my phone has to go off, and as I wrap my neck pillow around the back of my head I tell myself I’ll probably have a message waiting when we land. 

But as I get in the car that’ll take me back to my apartment and power up my phone, it comes up with nothing. Nothing I want to see, at least. I have a few emails from my manager about upcoming practices and game dates, but that’s it. No calls, no texts. 

“Goddamnit,” I growl, tossing my phone so it hits the opposite car door. 

The driver, Jake, looks in the rearview mirror. “Everything alright back there, Mr. Avery?” 

“Fine,” I grumble, retrieving my phone. “Everything’s fine.” 

I get home and notice that everything Steph once brought over is missing. She never officially lived with me, but she was over frequently, and her absence is noticeable. There are picture frames gone, the bra that was hanging over the bedroom doorknob is no longer there, and the air smells different. I can’t tell if I should feel relieved or sad, or a mixture of both. 

I was stupid in thinking I could have both at once, and now I have neither.

I spend a few hours lying on the couch, attempting to nap and instead scrolling through pictures in my camera roll from the past week. There’s one of Theo at the barber shop in the black cape, looking at me with cautious excitement as he got his hair cut. There’s one of April by herself, scowling playfully as we walked together on the way to pick Theo up at school. Then, my favorite, Theo asleep on my chest during the carriage ride. 

I miss them so bad it hurts. 

I eventually have to get up and go to practice. My coach and teammates give me shit for disappearing for so long and egg me on to joke with them, but I’m not in the mood. I play the game as best I can and try to bury my head in the physicality of it all, but it only does a bit of good. I can’t get all this off my mind. 

“So, you got a son,” my friend, Alex, says, as we walk into the locker room after practice is over.

I look at him as I take my helmet off. “Yeah,” I say.

“And a baby mama, too, I’m guessing.” 

“Yeah,” I say again. “One of those, too.” 

He shakes his head, laughing softly. “They’ll drag you through the shitter,” he says. “Up and down. But I’ll tell ya, it’s worth it.” 

“I know,” I say. 

“That’s why you stayed in Chicago so long?”

“Uh-huh,” I say. “I’d been away from them for so long, I don’t know. It didn’t feel right to just up and leave right away.” 

“You been paying your child support?” 

I look at him funny. “No,” I say. “I didn’t even know my son existed until about a week ago.” 

“Wait, she hid him from you?” 

I sigh. “It’s not that simple. It wasn’t vindictive, it’s…” I rub one hand over my beard, scratching the stubble. “It’s a long story. I don’t wanna get into it right now.” 

I get home and notice I have a call from my mother. I shake my head at the phone, though she can’t see me, and tell myself to call her back in the morning. I don’t think I can handle a conversation with her yet tonight. 

I get in bed and try April one more time, thinking that maybe since the day is over and she’s calmer, then I’ll have a chance in talking to her. But, just like every time before, my call goes ignored and gets sent to voicemail. 

...

When my mother comes into town for Thanksgiving a couple days later, I’m still down on my luck and I don’t feel like myself. This holiday is centered around family, and while my mom and I have always been close, there are two more people who I’d love to have sitting with us at this restaurant. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen my baby’s face on TV so much,” she says, smoothing her napkin on her lap. 

I meet her eyes and nod. “I know,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to call.” 

“It’s alright,” she says, and there’s something she’s not saying that I can see in her eyes. “I know you’ve been going through it.” 

“To say the least,” I mutter, taking a sip of my wine. 

“So, my baby has a baby,” she says. 

I scoff lightly. “You don’t sound all that surprised.” 

She chuckles. “I wish I could say I was.” 

“What do you mean?” 

She shakes her head. “Back when you went off to Bama so depressed, you were so taken aback that I knew it was because of April,” she says. “You’re giving me the same look now that you did then. I have eyes, honey. I saw how in love you two were, I’ve said that time and time again. And with the timing of everything - that little girl running off and leaving you with barely a note, it all adds up. It just makes sense.” She makes a small, affirmative sound. “It may not have been right. But we women don’t think logically all the time - we do what’s right for our babies. And after those babies are born, they take every ounce of care we have. None of it goes to ourselves anymore.” She raises her eyebrows. “But when she left, she wasn’t only thinking about that little boy, was she? That beautiful little boy… no. No, she was thinking about you, too.” She nods. “Selfless girl. With a mother’s heart.”

I’m silent. I don’t know what to say in response to that, or if there’s anything I should say. Her words are heavy, all of them true. 

“What did she have to say when you saw her?” my mother asks. 

“She apologized,” I say. “For… not telling me. For not letting me know him. We said a lot. I wasn’t letting myself miss her before, but…” I shake my head. 

“It all came back,” my mother says. “And that’s why you broke up with Steph.” 

“You heard about that?” 

She nods. “Everyone’s heard about it, honey.” She reaches across the table to take my hand, and I let her. “Tell me about your beautiful little boy.” 

My heart expands, knowing I’m in the company of someone who I can talk candidly with about Theo. I can’t help but smile as I picture his face, his new haircut, his toothy grin that looks just like April’s. 

“He’s so smart,” I say. “He’s six, and he’s adding four-digit numbers. Isn’t that crazy?” 

She smiles.

“He talks just like April. And he has this huge heart. This huge, huge heart. He thinks about other people’s feelings before his own. Like, what kid does that, you know?” I nod as I think more about him. “He has asthma, but he’s okay. April takes really good care of him. They live in this cute apartment in Uptown, they’ve lived there his whole life. She’s… she’s really amazing with him."

“Of course she is,” my mom says. “I bet she’s a wonderful mother.” 

“She is,” I murmur, picturing her carrying Theo to bed, his body folded against hers. “And he loves her so much. She’s his favorite person in the world. They’re really close.” 

Her expression changes from soft and sentimental to bittersweet, and I know why. She’s always been good at reading my mind. 

“You feel like you missed out,” she says.

“Well, I did,” I say. “I did miss out.” 

She pauses, piecing her thoughts together before voicing them. “Don’t be too hard on her, sweetheart,” she says. “She did what she thought-” 

“Was best for me, I know,” I say, snapping a bit. “But if she would’ve just talked to me, would’ve just… just confided in me, like she did with everything else. I… mom, we told each other everything. She was my best friend. My favorite person. And the fact that she kept this from me, kept  _ him _ …” 

“But look at your life now,” my mom says, pausing for effect. “Look at all you’ve been blessed with because of the opportunities you were given. If she would’ve told you she was pregnant, what would you have done? Think about that.” 

We stare deep into each other’s eyes. I know she’s not wrong, but I don’t necessarily agree with her, either. 

“You live a very charmed life, Jackson Avery,” she says. “And April has lived one that is very much the opposite. And now, you have every chance to fill in the blanks. What matters is right now.” She squeezes my hand. “There’s no right and wrong in this. She wasn’t right in keeping him from you, but she wasn’t wrong, either. Do you understand?” 

I nod, because I do. It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around, but I’ll keep trying.

Our food comes, and before I eat I subtly slip out my phone and shoot April a text. I haven’t sent one in a few days, but I can’t resist now. 

**SENT, 8:04pm- happy thanksgiving to you and little man :) hope you guys have a great holiday.**

Of course, I get no answer. But I expected as much. 

Mom and I have been quiet for a while, but over dessert I break the silence.

“She’s not speaking to me,” I say, setting down my fork. I leave my piece of pumpkin pie unfinished, which is very unlike me. I know she notices. 

“What’s that?”

“April,” I say. “She won’t answer my calls or texts.” 

Mom’s eyebrows crease together. “And why’s that?” 

“I think because of what I said on Good Morning America,” I say, and catch her up. She stopped watching my TV spots a long time ago. 

After she’s aware of what happened, she sighs. “Jackson,” she says. 

“I know,” I say. “You don’t have to tell me. I already know. I’m just… I’m tired of waiting for her to make the move. This is just history repeating itself, me sitting back and being complacent. Waiting for whatever happens… to happen.” 

“Then stop waiting,” Mom says. 

“What?"

“Stop waiting,” she says, more firmly this time. “You need to make the move, the grand gesture, whatever that might be.” She looks at me pointedly. “It’s your turn, son. Stop sitting back and waiting for the world to happen to you. You need to happen to the world.” 

**_O’HARE AIRPORT, CHICAGO, PRESENT_ **

After I get three games out of the way, I fly back to Chicago during the first week of December. I get into O’Hare airport around 7pm, and know that by the time I get to Uptown, Theo will already be asleep, which is what I want.

I don’t want to confuse him or get him involved in mine and April’s mess. He is a different being entirely.

I didn’t come here to fix the romance between us. I came here for my son. I came here so she’ll know I care about him, and I won’t let our budding relationship die off. That can’t happen. And she needs to realize how important he is to me.

I couldn’t think of a gesture more grand than this.

I also can’t stop thinking about the moments I’ve missed with Theo. As I travel alone, I think about the day he was born. He’d told me he came into the world on the backseat of a Greyhound bus. 

Around that time, April wore this white dress with cherries printed on it almost every day. She had told me she just liked it, but now I realize she probably wore it so much because nothing else fit or hid the bump very well. 

I picture her on the bus in that dress, going into labor with no one at her side. But then I imagine myself there, holding her hand and telling her  _ you’re strong, you can do this, there’s no one on earth more powerful than you _ .  _ You’re bringing another life into existence. You are the epitome of strength.  _

I imagine the warm, damp wet of my newborn son in my arms as I lay curled up next to his mother. His tiny body wrapped in a onesie as April cradled him and walked around the apartment, or sat with the radio on while he nursed. My chest hurts when I think about the quiet little moments I’ll never see firsthand. 

I think about Theo’s first steps. I can practically hear April cheering him on with, _ come on baby! Come on, you can do it! I know you can do it! _

And he did do it. He walked straight into her arms. But what if he had walked into mine? 

I think about his first train ride, or the first year they created the downtown carriage ride tradition. I think about his first word. If I’d been around, might it have been ‘dada’ instead?

I’ve missed out on so much. I won’t miss anything else.

By the time I get to the apartment, it’s around 8:30 and the neighborhood is quiet. As I look up past their balcony, though, I see the living room light on. She’s still up. 

I ring the doorbell and wait nervously for her to come downstairs. My palms are sweating as I clench them into fists, and I can’t stop grinding my teeth. This is the moment, the now or never moment, that I’ve been amping myself up for since I decided to do it. This is the moment that matters. 

She descends the stairs dressed in plaid pajama pants and a blue robe, freezing when she sees it’s me. For a moment, I’m terrified she’ll turn around and leave me behind a locked door. But she doesn’t do that. Instead, she comes forward and opens it, standing in the small space she’s created. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks. 

Her eyes are laden with emotion. I don’t know where to begin in decoding the expression. 

“I need to talk to you,” I say. My voice isn’t demanding or authoritative - I’m practically pleading. She’s been wrong in ignoring me, but I know I’ve been in the wrong, too. I prompted this from her. 

“I can’t see you right now,” she says, then tries to close the door before I stop it with one hand. 

“April, please,” I say. “I flew all the way from Seattle. I just… I need five minutes.” 

She stares at me, lips slightly parted and glassy eyes wide. She doesn’t move to close the door again.

“I know you’re mad,” I say. “I know I shouldn’t have said what I did on GMA. I know that was wrong, and I’m so sorry. I get stupid in front of cameras. And I know… I know that’s not an excuse. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry I can’t take it back. I wish I could.”

My chest feels somewhat lighter having gotten that off of it. I expect to see her facial expression change to something more open, but if anything, she grows angrier.

“How can you come here and just… say that to me, apologize all nice, when you’re still with her?” she spits. 

“What?” I ask, incredulous. “What are you talking about?” 

She narrows her eyes. “Do not play dumb with me, Jackson Avery.” 

“I’m not!” I say. “I swear to god, I have no damn clue what you’re talking about.” 

“You’re still with Steph,” she says, pointing a finger. “And don’t even try to lie and tell me you’re not, because she answered your phone when I called.”

I think back to the last time April called me, right after I did the interview. I was already broken up with Steph, and Gloria answered the phone. 

“No,” I say. “No, April, you have it all wrong.” 

“How?” she says. “How could I possibly be wrong?” 

“That wasn’t Steph,” I say. “That was my assistant, Gloria. I could call her right now and you’d hear that it was her. Are you gonna make me do that?” 

She recoils, and I see something shift in her eyes. She knows I’m not lying. 

“No,” she says softly. 

“I broke up… well, technically Steph broke up with me the night I got back. Her stuff’s been moved out for weeks and I haven’t heard from her.” 

“Oh,” she says. 

“So that’s the reason?” I say. “That’s the reason you’ve been ignoring all my calls and texts? Even the ones where I just wanna talk to my son?”

Her face flushes with color. “You said exactly what I told you not to,” she says, voice trembling. “Life doesn’t feel normal anymore. It doesn’t feel like it used to. Around every corner, I’m scared someone’s gonna see us and go crazy.” 

Tears well in her eyes and drip over the edges. I resist the urge to reach and wipe them away. She doesn’t want that. 

“I’m sorry,” I say. “For everything. I know I was wrong. But you were, too. You can’t…” I sigh. “You can’t shut me out like that, April.” I look at her desperately. “I need him. Do you not understand how much I need him?” 

“So do I!” she says, snapping as she cries harder. “I need him safe. I need him in one piece. I need him worrying about things a first-grader should worry about, like homework and recess time. I don’t need him obsessing over you, and when in the world he’s gonna see you next. I need my son acting like my son.” She smacks her chest and lays her flat hand there. “I need my Theo. I can’t have him in his head like he was when you left.” She lets her hand fall. “You hurt him.” 

My heart cracks hearing the words said out loud. I knew they were true, but staring them in the face is harder than I ever imagined. 

“I know,” I say, wounded. “And I want to fix it.” 

She’s silent where I expected she’d cut in, giving me the space to continue. 

“I just wanna spend time with him,” I say. “I cleared my schedule. I played a few games back home. I wanna be here. I’ll stay at the hotel, I’m not trying anything funny with you. I’m here for him.” 

Her eyes roam my face, darting everywhere without landing. 

“I don’t wanna miss out on him anymore, April,” I say, and my voice cracks. “I just don’t.” 

She wrings her hands, the tear stains still visible on her cheeks. “You’re not going to leave again, are you?” 

I look at her, concentrating on the little details of her face. The worry crease between her eyebrows, the bags under her eyes, the paleness of her lips. She’s exhausted. 

“If I do, it’ll be with an explanation, a proper goodbye, and a designated return time,” I say. “I promise. I just want to do this right.”

She pauses, then says quietly, “So do I.” 

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, PRESENT_ **

Instead of traveling there together, I meet April at Theo’s school. As I walk up, I don’t notice the whispers and glances at first, not until they get louder and I hear my name among them. 

“Is that Jackson Avery?” 

“Yeah, he has a son who goes here. Do you not watch TV?”

I look over my shoulder and feel a handful of eyes on me. I keep my head low and make it to April, who’s leaning against the brick side of the school with her arms crossed. 

“They see you?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “They never noticed before. I… I guess it didn’t cross my mind that they would now.” 

“After the GMA thing, everyone notices,” she says. “Everyone in Theo’s class was asking him a thousand questions about his football player daddy. He came home crying three times that first week after you left, after the interview.” 

“Jesus.” 

“Yeah,” she says. “That’s what we’ve been dealing with here.” 

A stone of guilt sits in my gut, and she knows she tossed it there to sink. 

“Does he know I’m coming?” 

“I told him this morning.”

“Is he excited?” 

She looks at me, eyes unfeeling. Or she’s trying very hard to make them unfeeling. “Of course he is,” she says. 

When the bell rings, I crane my neck to watch for Theo’s class. When I see him, I can’t help but smile at how his hair has grown out a little and the stylish outfit he’s wearing - faded jeans and a red hoodie under his winter coat. It looks like something I’d choose. 

“Daddy!” I hear him shout from across the asphalt. He breaks from the line and careens through bunches of children, backpack thumping against his back, to get to me. 

When he makes it, he flies into my arms and I pick him up and spin him around.

“Daddy!” he sings again, arms tighter around my neck. “You came back, daddy! You came back!” 

“Of course I did,” I say. “I was always gonna come back.” 

I catch April’s eyes over Theo’s shoulder, but she looks away quickly. Her arms are still crossed, body closed off, as she stays a few feet away from us. 

“Hey, teddy,” she says, after I set him down. “How was school?” 

“Good,” he says, taking her hand routinely. “I turned my homework in way early. My teacher was really impressed, just like you said, mama!” 

She smiles at him, petting his hair with her free hand. 

“Mom,” he says, trying to whisper though I can still clearly hear him. “Daddy’s here again. Are you happy?” 

I expect her to look at me, but she doesn’t. She keeps her eyes centered on Theo, who watches her with anticipation. 

“Yes,” she says, and leaves it at that. 

“Mommy,” he says, tugging on her arm. “Your mouth is smiling but your eyes look sad.” 

“I’m okay, honey,” she says. “How about you tell your dad what you’ve been up to the last few weeks?” 

Theo looks to me. “Christmas is in 20 days!” he says. 

I laugh. “You’re right,” I say. 

“Mama says we’re probably not getting that much from Santa this year. But that’s okay. ‘Cause I’m gonna make her something at school, but she doesn’t know what it is.” 

I smile at him, but feel a pang in my heart at the fact that they don’t have enough funds for a lavish Christmas. I have an inner battle with myself whether or not I should do something to change that. 

“What did you do for Thanksgiving?” I ask him. 

“We helped out people who don’t have enough money to have houses,” he says. “We handed out soup to them. And after everyone had a bowl, we sat down and ate with them and made new friends. Mama told a lot of stories. I did, too!” 

So, they volunteered at a soup kitchen. They volunteered while I sat with my mom at a posh restaurant where people were forced to work on a holiday. 

“That’s so nice,” I say.

“I made a friend named Bernie,” Theo tells me. “He said he lives under a bridge like the troll, but I’m the nicest kid he’s ever met.” 

I can’t help but laugh. “That’s kinda awesome,” I say. 

Then, April cuts in. “I have some errands to run,” she says, fiddling with the strap of her purse. “Bring him back to the apartment by dinner, okay?” 

“Mommy,” Theo says, grabbing her hand. “You’re leaving?” 

She kneels and holds his face, smiling because she’s looking at her world. “I am,” she says. “You’re gonna spend some time with your daddy.” 

Theo blinks. “But you want to spend time with him, too, right?” 

She strokes his chin. “I think you guys should spend some time without me today,” she says. “Boy time. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“I don’t know,” Theo says. 

It strikes me that this will be the first time we’ve hung out without her. Every time before this, he’s insisted that she stay. But now, that option is taken from the table. 

“It’ll be awesome,” I say. “We can talk about gross stuff that Mom hates.” 

Theo looks up at me, his expression a bit worried. “I don’t like potty talk,” he says.

“Okay,” I say, laughing. “Then we don’t have to.”

April kisses him on the forehead. “Have fun with your dad. I think he has some plans for you guys, and I’ll see you for dinner.” 

“Daddy for dinner, too?” Theo asks. 

“I don’t know,” she says. “We’ll see.” Then she stands up and looks at me. “Be safe, please.” 

After April leaves, we both watch her go. Theo takes my hand with his tiny one and I squeeze his fingers. “You wanna play some football?” I ask.

“I never knowed how to play,” he admits. 

“Great news,” I say. “You’re gonna learn from the best.” 

I get us both in football practice garb - I brought mine from home and I picked his up at a sporting goods store. Once he’s all decked out, he looks like a mini-me. I snap a picture; I can’t get enough. 

“This feels kinda weird, daddy,” he says, trailing after me on the field. “It’s heavy.” 

“You get used to it, bud,” I say. “Have you ever thrown a football before?” 

He shakes his head no. 

“Then I know the perfect place to start.”

By the end of our ‘practice,’ Theo tackles me to the ground and I let him. He erupts into a fit of giggles as he rolls off and runs, tempting me to chase him. I don’t disappoint - I catch up in a split second and scoop him up from the ground, tossing him over my shoulder. 

When his laughter stops and he starts to wheeze, my heart stops and my skin goes cold. 

“Shit,” I say, setting him down and getting his helmet off. “Where’s your inhaler?” 

He points. I follow his finger.

“Backpack,” I say, hurrying over. “Fuck. Shit. Backpack.”

I get the inhaler out, pop the lid off, and give it to him with shaking hands. He takes a big puff and closes his eyes, breathing easier after a few moments.

“Daddy…” he sighs. 

“What, baby?” I say, crouched at his side, still on high alert.

“Swear jar.” 

…

Sitting at a coffee shop near the apartment a little while later, Theo holds a hot chocolate in both hands while I sip my latte. No one recognizes me here - they couldn’t care less. It’s what I love the most about Uptown, the neighborhood they live in. Everyone minds their own business. 

“Is Mom gonna freak out that you had an asthma attack?” I ask. 

He shrugs and blows on his drink. Dressed in his school clothes, he looks little again - not all decked out with bulky shoulder pads and a big helmet. 

“She’s okay as long as I’m okay,” he says, not realizing how much weight his words hold. 

He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and studies me, green eyes searching my face. What he’s searching for, I’m not sure. 

“Daddy,” he says. “When are you gonna leave again?” 

His question hits me like a blow to the stomach. I stare at him for a moment, calculating my response. “Why do you ask, buddy?” I say. 

His eyes concentrate on the steam from his drink as he traces the lip of the cup. “I just…” he says, then sighs. He looks over to the counter and watches the baristas do their work. “I just kinda wanna know when to be ready. So I can tell Mommy. And maybe she won’t have to cry that much this time.” 

Theo looks away from the baristas, back to me. I bite the inside of my cheek and try to figure out how to respond. 

“I’m doing the best I can to stay,” I say. “I wanna stay here for a long time. I don’t always wanna be up and leaving you, you know?” 

“And Mommy,” he adds. 

“And Mommy,” I repeat. I reach across the table and take his hand with a serious expression. “I love you, Theo. I wanna be here, and… I wanna be your dad.” 

His eyes are wide and soulful as they meet mine. He doesn’t know how to respond, and he doesn’t have to. All he has to do is hold my hand back, and that’s what he does. 


	9. Chapter 9

**JACKSON**

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, PRESENT_ **

Theo races up the stairs once we get to the apartment, and when we get to the third floor, I smell chicken that April must be cooking. 

“Dinner!” Theo enthuses. 

“I smell it, too,” I say, chuckling a little. “Knock on the door. I don’t have a key.” 

He knocks quickly and April appears in the doorway, apron on and flyaway hairs pulling from her ponytail. She smiles cordially at me and ruffles her son’s hair, welcoming us both inside. 

“Can Daddy stay?” Theo asks, setting his backpack on the bench in the entryway. “For dinner? Please, mama? Please?” 

April chews her lower lip, looking between the two of us. I want to stay, but I don’t want her to feel pressured if she doesn’t want me here. 

“I can go, if you don’t-” 

“No, daddy,” Theo whines, holding onto my wrist with both hands and pulling. “Stay and eat dinner with us. I haven’t even seen you for ten thousand two hundred and forty-two years.” 

April lets out a gust of laughter. “Stay, if you want,” she says. 

I look at her with hope on my face, I can feel it. “Yeah?” I say. 

“Sure,” she responds, turning to walk in the direction she came from. 

My chest feels lighter hearing her say those words, so I follow them into the main part of the house. Theo is right on April’s heels as she heads into the kitchen, bouncing from foot to foot while singing a song I can’t quite hear.

“I had a asthma attack, mommy,” Theo says, off-handedly, conversationally. 

April spins around, hair flying. “What?” she says, voice rising. 

I close my eyes slowly as my gut sinks. I wasn’t planning on keeping that from her, but I hoped to break it in a gentler manner. 

“I needed my inhaler,” Theo says. “Daddy got it for me. Don’t worry, mama. I’m okay. See, I’m standing right here and I’m okay!” 

April hugs Theo tight and furrows her eyebrows, kissing the side of his head. When she opens her eyes, she looks straight into mine with a serious expression, but doesn’t say anything. 

Not yet. 

She stands at the oven and lifts the lid on a pot, Theo sticking right by her side. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby boy?” she asks, touching his hair while wearing an oven mitt. 

I linger awkwardly in the entrance of the kitchen, not comfortable enough to make it all the way in. 

“Mama, I feeled better right after I puffed. I swear.” 

“Take a big breath for me. The biggest one you can.” 

Theo puffs out his chest, holds it for a moment, then lets it out powerfully. “See? I’m okay,” he says.

“Okay,” she says, putting the lid back on what I think is mashed potatoes. “What were you doing? What brought this on?” 

“Daddy teached me how to play football!” Theo says, looking back at me for validation. 

I feel like I’ve done something wrong, though I know I haven’t. All I was doing was trying to bond with my son by doing something I love, something we could find common ground on. I shouldn’t feel guilty for spending time with him, I shouldn’t be condemned for trying. 

“You know how you get with sports and running, babe,” April says. 

Theo wraps his arms around her thigh and leans his head against her hip. While stirring, she keeps one hand on his shoulder for comfort. 

“I know,” he peeps. “I just wanted to try.” 

“It’s okay,” she says. “Your daddy should’ve known.” 

“I forgotted to tell him.” Theo looks up at her, eyes wide. “He wasn’t bad, mommy. Okay? He didn’t do anything bad.”

She rubs her thumb in circles on his shoulder, squeezing his body against hers. “Sure,” she says. “Go set the table for me, okay? Dinner will be ready in a few.” 

She throws me a look while Theo gathers the plates and cups, and I want to say something to defend myself but can’t think of the right words. 

“I… we handled it,” I say, then want to roll my eyes at myself. 

That’s not good enough. I sound like an idiot. She’s never going to trust me with him, not fully. But at the same time, I shouldn’t have to prove myself time and time again. I’m new at this whole fatherhood thing. 

“I didn’t know, April,” I say, sitting down at the table. “I would’ve planned something else for us to do had I remembered about his asthma.” 

“It’s something you have to keep in mind,” she says. “Always.” 

“Well, I know now,” I say, trying to catch her eyes across the way, but she refuses to look up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let it happen.” 

“Thank you,” she says. 

There’s a quick pause before Theo speaks and stops us from any further bickering. “Can I say the prayer, mommy?” he asks.

She nods, and he clasps his hands at his forehead, bowing his head. “Dear God,” he says, voice strong and sure. “Thank you for bringing Daddy back to Chicago safe and sound. Thank you for helping Mommy cook a yummy dinner and for giving me zero nothing for homework tonight. Thank you for helping my lungs open up earlier and making my asthma attack go away. And most of all, thank you for my whole life. Amen.”

April smiles at our boy, and the smile lingers on her face when she catches my eyes. I don’t know if she meant for it to, but I like seeing it. 

**APRIL**

It wasn’t my plan for Jackson to stay for dinner. I expected him to drop Theo off and see himself back to the hotel, but after Theo begged him not to leave, I couldn’t say no. They’d had such a good afternoon together, I wanted Theo to be able to hold onto that happiness. 

I can’t help but feel a chip on my shoulder after I discover that Theo had an asthma attack while under Jackson’s care. I know how to avoid them, and Theo does too while we’re together. But when he’s with Jackson, he’s excitable and his health isn’t on the forefront of his mind. I don’t let my mind wander to what might’ve happened in the worst-case scenario, because he’s fine. He’s in one piece, right here in front of me, asking me a favor with big, round eyes. 

“Can Daddy put me to bed tonight, too, mama?” he asks, dressed in PJs after his bath. 

I exhale softly, biting my top lip while looking at Jackson. I’m not necessarily angry with him - I don’t know how to feel. Everything about this situation is so confusing, and I’m reluctant to let myself feel anything. I’m afraid it’ll only hurt me in the long run. 

“Sure,” I say. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.” 

Jackson follows Theo to his room and I bring up the rear. He jumps in bed and pats the mattress so Jackson will sit down, too, and he does. 

“Mama, you sit next to Daddy,” Theo says. “Can we read a book? Can Daddy read a book to me?” 

I look at Jackson, prompting him with my eyes. “I think I remember how,” he jokes, and our son giggles. 

I watch Jackson’s features as he reads. His eyebrows are animated with the words and his lips move fluidly as he speaks. Theo listens, enraptured, until his eyelids grow heavy. He falls asleep just before Jackson reaches the last page. 

As we stand up from the bed, though, he wakes up slightly. He reaches his arms out for me, something I’m not unused to, and I kneel for a hug and a kiss.

“Mama,” he whispers, being tugged under by the blanket of sleep. 

“Yeah, honey?” I say. 

“I really, really like it when you and Daddy are together,” he says, arms looped around my neck. I can feel his sweet breath puff onto my cheeks. “And I promise promise, mama, we had fun and he didn’t do my asthma on purpose.” 

“Okay,” I say, voice hushed. “I believe you. It’s time to go to sleep, little man. I love you.” 

I kiss his forehead and he settles into his pillow. I smile at his restful form as I linger by the doorway, and notice Jackson hovering in the hall as I flick Theo’s light off. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks, matching my pace as I head towards the living room.

“I’m exhausted, Jackson,” I say. “I am so, so tired, you don’t understand. Not now, I-” 

“April,” he says, voice firm. “Please.” 

I sigh and massage my temples, closing my eyes as I stop in my tracks. “Jackson. I had a long day. Can you just call me tomorrow and we can talk then?”

“I’m not asking for a counseling session,” he says. “I just need to talk about… things.” 

“It’s not the best time,” I say. “I don’t wanna ruin tonight with whatever… whatever you’re going to bring up.” 

“It has to be brought up sometime,” he says. “We have to talk. That’s how this has to work.”

“I can’t talk to you,” I say, throwing my hands up. “I can barely look at you right now.”

The venom in my voice not only surprises him, it surprises me, too. I hadn’t thought I was angry, but now that we’re alone, it’s all surfacing. Everything I wasn’t letting myself feel is simmering to the surface, much to Jackson’s misfortune.  

He visibly recoils, a troubled look in his eyes. 

“You’re being impossible,” I say, eyebrows furrowing. “Sometimes, I think about giving the sex talk to Theo when he’s 13. I’m already dreading it, but right now I’d prefer that rather than you standing here and pestering me to listen to you.” 

He scrunches up his forehead. “Why are you acting like this?” he asks. “Is this seriously just about Theo’s asthma attack? I thought we’d already been through that.” 

Rage boils inside me as I wonder how he could be so dense. “Number one,” I say. “It isn’t  _ just _ an asthma attack. An attack is something that’s very detrimental to his health, and every one should scare you.” 

“You think I wasn’t scared?” he says. “You think I didn’t flip my shit? Of course I did. But I took care of it. Because he’s my son.” 

“I know you took care of it,” I say. “But it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. Theo isn’t a normal kid, he isn’t the son who you dress up in your football gear and call him your mini-me while he runs around the field. He has severe asthma, Jackson. He can’t play sports! You have to accept that.” 

“I do!” he says. “I do accept that. I accept him for everything he is. It slipped my mind, alright? I didn’t know how bad it was.” 

I shake my head, unable to wrap my mind around how he can’t see what I’m still upset over. “You didn’t know,” I say. “Just like Steph didn’t know.”

He narrows his eyes. “Steph?” he says. “Steph? April, why are we talking about Steph?” 

I cross my arms tightly. “You spent that week with us playing family while you kept her on a warmer back in Seattle,” I say. 

“What?” he spits. “Where is this coming from?” 

“You were lying to her the whole time you were here,” I say. “And I knew it, that’s the sad thing. I was wrong. I know that. I own up to it. I tried to call her, you know. She didn’t answer, of course, but I left a message. A really long one, apologizing for playing a part in her heartbreak. Because that’s really awful, what you did to her, Jackson.” 

“I know that,” he says. “I know. You called her? Honestly?” 

“It was the right thing to do,” I say. “I needed to get that off my chest. I felt like it was my fault.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says.

“But it was,” I say. “We both got drunk and I kissed you.” 

“And I kissed you back,” he says. “We both… it’s not like it was a huge surprise.” 

“No,” I say, easily remembering how his lips felt against mine. Soft and plush, familiar like coming home. “But she still didn’t deserve that.” 

“No, she didn’t,” he agrees, and something settles in my chest. 

I’m not done, though. There are still emotions wound tight in my body, begging to be set free. I’m not sure what’s going to come out of my mouth before I speak, but I let myself go anyway. 

“You miss that life,” I say. “Being this… this sort of bachelor, throwing your money around, having people fall at your feet.” I cringe as I imagine that lifestyle bestowed upon us in Chicago, the image of Theo in designer clothes instead of Target brand makes my skin crawl. “At least if you don’t miss it now, you will. You… we don’t live like you, Jackson. We just don’t.” 

“I know that,” he says. “I know you don’t live like me, and I don’t know why you’re hung up on it. When have I ever asked you to change? I never have. Not once.” 

I open my mouth to refute him, but find myself unable to. 

“And the reason I didn’t tell Steph sooner is because I was just as confused as you were. I never expected to come to Chicago and find you. I came here to make some sick kids happy. And there you guys were. Dropped in my lap. My life got turned upside down, and you expect me to know how to react. I’m sorry I somehow had no idea.” 

His words sit heavy with me. 

“You’ve been a parent for six years,” he continues. “I’ve been one for about a month. I’m new, and I know I’m not that good. I know there’s shit I don’t think about and I need to. I know there’ll be things I have no clue how to do. But… you have to get off my ass about it. Stop jumping down my throat every time I make a mistake, like today. I’m gonna make more, no question.”

I watch him, mouth closed and eyes wide. He hasn’t said something wrong yet, and I’m having my ass handed to me. I’ve never felt like this before, so put in my place. 

I think he’s the only one I’d ever let do that. 

“I’m confused,” he says. “And I’m scared. But I don’t want Steph. I don’t think I ever did. It’s awful to say, but you and I both know she was a placeholder.” He pauses. “I want my family. I want  _ you _ to be my normal, not all that celebrity stuff back home.” He looks around and extends his arms to either side of his body. “I want this. I want this drafty apartment with the creaky floors, and your green eyes staring at me.” 

I lick my lower lip as I think of how to respond, and tears well up in my eyes. Without my permission, they spill over and stream down my cheeks, and my shoulders cave in as I start to sob. 

Through my tears, I look at his face and see his heart. He’s nothing but genuine, and suddenly he’s the boy I left years ago. At his core, he is exactly the same. I see Theo in his eyes, and realize I’ve always known why my son is so sweet and pure. It’s all because of his father, his father whose love for me has never waned, never weakened, after all I’ve done to push him away. After all he’s done to try and forget me, nothing has worked. 

Something inside used to tell me we’d always find our way back to each other. But after a few years passed, I stopped believing it. I realize now I never should’ve. 

“I’m scared,” I admit, chewing the inside of my cheek as I continue to cry. “I’m really scared.” 

He crinkles his forehead, looking puzzled. “Of what?” 

My lower lip trembles as I wring my hands. “Getting hurt,” I say, and swallow hard. “I’m scared to let myself feel what I feel for you.” 

A weight is lifted from my shoulders - it’s the first time I’ve said those words out loud. I haven’t even thought them in linear terms before, so hearing them is both jarring and enlightening.

“I don’t want to do something to hurt you again,” I say, trembling now. “Or to hurt us. Or most of all, hurt him.” 

My eyes dart towards the hall, where Theo sleeps. My light, my world, my little boy. The piece of mine and Jackson’s hearts we created. Our greatest accomplishment hangs in the precipice of what we decide to make of our love for each other.

I feel his hands on my upper arms, grounding me to earth as I continue to cry. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, voice even and calm. “April.” 

He tips my chin up with his thumb and I open my eyes to look directly into his. He’s wearing a cautious little smile, gazing at me like he always used to.

“Nothing’s felt quite right since you left,” he says. “And now, here with you… things feel right again.”

I lose my breath and my chest rattles. I reach and gently hold his face, stroking his cheekbones with my thumbs. I want to put all my faith in him, I want to give him everything. 

I close my eyes and kiss him, tilting my head to one side and pressing my lips fervently to his. He kisses me back with passion, wrapping his arms around my back and making a small sound from his throat. For a moment, we get so lost in each other that we become one body, one soul. 

“I’m so in love with you,” I breathe, after we pull apart. “I’m so in love with you, and-and what we created. I don’t want to ruin it.” 

He drags his thumb over my lower lip, then kisses me with it still between our mouths. “We won’t,” he says. “We can handle this.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, vulnerable eyes staring into his. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, ONE YEAR AGO_ **

I kneel in front of Theo by the front door, straightening his clip-on tie. Tonight, we’re going to the wedding of one of my closest friends, Addison, and he’s jittering with excitement. 

“I never goed to a wedding before,” he says, sitting on the stairs while I tie his tiny, gleaming loafers. 

“I know,” I say. “Isn’t it exciting?” 

I’m wearing a knee-length peach dress with kitten heels, my hair curled and pulled half-back from my face. Not much makeup, but a little bit. Theo and I look very classy, if I do say so myself.

Once we get to the venue and are surrounded by people, I take my son’s hand and he holds tight to mine for security. As he keeps close to my leg, we walk in and sign the guest book. He signs his name as best he can, in kindergarten scrawl that’s way too big. But I smile after he’s done anyway, proud that he’s mine. I’m proud of everything he does. 

For the ceremony, he sits on my lap while we watch Addison come down the aisle, looking royal. Theo’s eyes are wide and wondering, taking in his surroundings, things he’s never experienced before. 

“So, now Addison and Jake are gonna love each other forever and ever?” Theo asks, sitting next to me during the reception. Someone found a few books to prop him up on, and he’s eating the chicken I cut up for him. 

“That’s the plan, yeah,” I say, smiling towards the head table. They look truly happy together, and I feel lucky to see it firsthand. I haven’t had much faith in love over the past handful of years, but they’re relighting something in me. That hopeless romantic part that I’ve been trying to keep buried. 

Theo stabs a piece of chicken and chews on it thoughtfully. “Did you want to get married with my dad?” he asks.

My eyes dart away from the head table to center on my son. Sometimes, questions about his father will come out of the blue and catch me off-guard. During big events like this, Jackson usually always crosses Theo’s mind. This isn’t the first time he’s asked about us getting married, either.

But this is the first time he’s asked my opinion on it. 

“If things were a little different between me and your dad, yes,” I say. “I would have loved to marry him.” 

“And have a wedding and wear a pretty white dress?” 

I smile. “Exactly. That would have been great.” 

My throat tightens, and I clear it to force the feeling away. I promised myself I’d always answer Theo’s questions, but sometimes by asking them, he reopens a wound that’s tried so hard to stay healed. Scabbed over, at the very least.

“I think he would be wanting to have a wedding with you, too, mama.” 

I smile sadly, one corner of my lips pulling up. “Yeah?” I say. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugs. “It’s fun to dress up. And I think he would really like the white dress you picked out, ‘cause you’re the best at picking out clothes.” 

I lean to kiss his temple, holding there for an extra beat. 

When the music starts, I take my son onto the dance floor and sway with him resting on my hip. I take one of his hands and he smiles at me, then lays his head on my shoulder. It’s late, and he’s getting sleepy. But still, we’ll stay and enjoy this beautiful night. 

“Do you wish you knew your daddy?” I ask Theo, broaching the topic I almost never bring up myself. I always wait for him to do it, but now it’s on my mind. And with his soft, sleepy face looking back at me, I can’t help but remember Jackson’s. Jackson’s, and how sweet he looked when he first woke up. 

He’d always fall asleep while we did homework on his bed, papers strewn around him. His eyes would close and he’d find his way to my lap, resting his head there. I’d comb my fingers through his curls slowly, lulling him further, and keep still while he napped. When he woke up, I’d be finished with my work, and he’d turn over on his back to look up at my face. His eyes would be bleary, voice raspy, smile groggy as he puckered his lips for a kiss. 

He was at his sweetest while with me, just like Theo is. I can easily say that’s a trait they both share, a trait Theo must have inherited from him. So many of the ways they love me are the same. 

Theo shrugs, looping his arms around my neck. “I don’t know,” he says. 

I nod. He continues, though I hadn’t expected him to. 

“If you wanted me to know him, I want to,” he says.

I crinkle my forehead as I lean my cheek against the top of his hair. “There’s no wrong way to feel, little man,” I say. “However you feel about him is totally okay.” 

“Okay,” he whispers softly. “But I always love you best.” 

Later that night, after our big night is over, Theo falls asleep on my chest while we ride the train home. As I stroke his back, he transforms into a baby again in my mind, one I loved with everything I had, but who broke my heart daily. 

At first, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done, raising him alone. I was still a baby myself, living on my own and caring for an infant. And to add on top of that, every new expression he made belonged to Jackson. 

I couldn’t ask for anyone’s help, though many times I wanted to. But my pride and simultaneous selflessness prevented me from reaching out. 

But during moments like the one I’m in right now, where my son sleeps peacefully on my body, depending completely on me, I can’t help but think of Jackson and how much he would love Theo. 

I can’t help but picture us as a family, riding the train together, Theo asleep on me while I lean my head against Jackson’s shoulder, his arm strong around me. 

For just a minute, I let myself daydream. I wouldn’t have to be hyper-vigilant all the time, acting as the constant protector. I could give some of that up, hand it over to Jackson, who I know would gladly take it. I could take a breath once in a while. I don’t know what having a second pair of hands feels like, I’ve been raising Theo on my own for so long. 

I hold him a little tighter, rescinding my daydream. He’s perfect right now, and he’s always been that way. If I changed anything about his past, his present would be different. And he’s the best child I’ve ever known. 

I press my lips to his temple and whisper, “I always love you best.” 

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, PRESENT_ **

The feeling of Jackson’s hands on me is one I’ve desperately missed. 

We’re both sober, both at full capacity, both completely aware of our actions. So, when he captures my waist and kisses me with so much passion it nearly knocks me off my feet, I know what comes next. 

We make it to my bedroom, feet tripping as our lips fumble over each other, and close the door behind us. 

“You wanna do this?” he breathes, pulling my shirt over my head. 

I nod, hair mussed. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I say, repeating his words from just moments ago. 

He smiles slightly and kisses my neck, opening his mouth wide so his tongue can lave over the skin, slow and deliberate. He sucks on my pulse point, running one hand up my back to slip under the band of my bra, undoing the clasp with a flick of his wrist. 

“See,” he murmurs. “I can do it.” 

I laugh to myself and shake my head. “Still thinking about that?”

He pulls the bra down my arms, keeping it while I had expected him to toss it away. “Of course I am,” he says, then holds it up. “This contraption was the death of me for like, the first year we were having sex. I could barely look you in the eyes knowing I couldn’t work it.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” I say. 

He takes either strap and looks at it. “A small package for such a big enemy.” 

“Are you calling me flat-chested?” I ask. “I’m a B-cup, you know.” 

He looks at me instead of my bra, flinging it to the side. “Whatever they are, they’re perfect,” he says, then walks me back towards the bed. When it hits the back of my knees, I sit and he strips off his shirt as I lie down and watch him crawl overtop of me. 

He goes for my breasts right away, cupping one in his hand while kissing my neck. The kisses are messy and wet, and I close my eyes to relish the way his mouth feels on my skin. He massages my breast slowly and fluidly, moving his lips to my collarbone, my sternum, then lower to the breast his hand isn’t covering. 

He sucks the swell of the underside between his teeth, which makes my eyelashes flutter. With his mouth as wide as it’ll go, he takes a big portion and pops away with a wet sound, going back for the nipple. 

His eyes close while he runs his tongue over it, sucking and licking simultaneously, and I can’t help but reach down and slip my hand inside the front of my yoga pants. His mouth feels amazing; I can’t remember the last time my breasts were so stimulated, and I want nothing more than an orgasm right now.

I slip two fingers inside and widen my legs, pumping while he continues to work on my damp, shiny chest. I stroke the back of his head, dragging my fingertips through his curls, then feel him pull my wrist out of my pants and substitute it with his own hand.

His fingers are bigger and rougher than mine, and the sensation is appreciated. I toss my head to one side as he moves his mouth to the other breast, sucking hard while he rolls the wet nipple with his thumb and first finger. 

“I’m almost there,” I breathe, as his fingers quicken. 

But in one quick moment, he removes his hand and leaves me lacking and throbbing for more. While making heavy eye contact, he slips those two fingers into his mouth and sucks on them while descending my body and pulling my pants and underwear off in one fell swoop. 

When he yanks my thighs apart, I can’t help but whimper. I throw my arms above my head while he keeps his hands on my inner thighs, pinning them down so I can’t suffocate him, and finds my clit almost instantly. 

“God, baby, that feels so good,” I moan, moving to hold my breasts in my hands. They’re still slick from the attention from his tongue, so it feels even better as I run my fingers over the nipples. 

“You taste amazing,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to my pelvic bone. When his tongue returns to my core, he moves his head back and forth quickly while keeping his tongue on my clit, and my eyebrows skyrocket to the ceiling. 

“Just like that!” I hiss, trying to keep quiet as I’m acutely aware Theo is just down the hall. 

Jackson moves his head faster, tightening his lips around the nerves, and I come with a drawn-out moan as my hips tremble and jerk against his working mouth. As my body goes weak, spent from the feeling, my knees drop and my pulse situates tight between my thighs. 

“Do you remember the first time I did that?” he asks, kissing low on my belly. 

I think back to our first time, how nervous he’d been to go down on me. “You got… a lot better,” I pant. 

“I still made you come, though, that first time,” he says. 

“You did,” I say. “I remember that. On your tiny little bed in your mom’s house.” 

He chuckles, nuzzling the peach fuzz around my bellybutton. “That was my-”

“Birthday,” I finish, then smile. “I remember.” I reach to frame his face with one hand, and he leans against my palm. “Of course I remember.” 

“I hope you don’t remember how I was-” 

“Digging around for my clit like you were hunting for buried treasure?” I giggle, hugging his shoulders with my knees. “I remember being like… what is he doing? What is he looking for?” 

He hides his face, resting it against my ribcage. “I knew I was taking too long,” he says. “But I’d seen, you know, in porn… or whatever…” 

“You’re such a perv,” I say, playing with him. “Taking pointers from porn on how to have sex with your high school girlfriend.” 

“How else was I supposed to know?” he laughs, brushing a tendril of my hair out of my eyes. The light in his eyes fades from joking to something warm and soothing, and I can’t stop staring. I want to get lost in the way he looks right now. 

“What?” I say. 

He shakes his head, toothy smile lessening to one much more subtle. “Just thinking about… I don’t know. How much has changed, yet… nothing really has.” He scoots up so we’re at face-level with each other and kisses me, soft on the mouth. “You look the same as you did back then. Your smile, your eyes…” His hand trails down to my chest, thumb pressing against the middle where my heartbeat lies. “This freckle, this vein that made me absolutely crazy the first time I saw your boobs. Everything.” He shakes his head. “Everything.” 

I kiss him, holding his cheeks while pulling myself as close as possible. “I love you,” I say. “I never stopped.” 

When he pushes inside me, it’s a reunion. It feels different than our wine-drunk night, or any time preceding when we were kids. This is different. Our bodies working as one is the result of two adults who love each other beyond all means, two adults who created another beautiful life, two adults who have overcome incredible adversity only to find their way back to each other. 

While his body thrusts on top of mine, I hold him close and don’t let any space come between us. Every inch of our skin is pressed together, my arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his thighs, as he buries himself within me and reclaims my body as his home. 

He comes first, hot and intense as I hold him, pressing kisses to the curve of my jaw, then taking my earlobe and sucking on it while his hips continue to move out of time. While his fingers work on getting me there a second time, he sucks on my lower lip and I kiss him back as best I can while my orgasm shudders through me, forcing me to cling to him with everything I have. 

We’re sweating and breathing heavily once we both come down, and I push his curls away from his forehead and keep my hand there. He opens his eyes and smiles tiredly, pulling me close by the small of my back to kiss me. 

“I missed you,” I say, surprised when I feel like I might cry. He kisses me again, and I repeat myself. “I missed you so much.” 

“I’m here,” he says, holding me tight and pressing his face into my neck. “I’m right here.” 

…

In the middle of the night, I wake up to Theo in my bed, right in the middle of Jackson and me. Luckily, we thought ahead a few hours prior and put pajamas on.

Theo is asleep, arms thrown above his head, dressed in a matching pair of rocketship pajamas. I can’t help the smirk that grows on my face as I look at Jackson next to him, shirtless but in boxers, lying in the same position. 

Both of their mouths are open, lips parted just slightly, faces free of any worry. They’re breathing at almost the exact same slow rate, and if I watch closely I can see their heartbeats through their warm, bronze skin. 

My heart explodes as I look at the two halves of my heart, sleeping peacefully in the sanctuary I’ve made. 

I fall back to sleep myself, one arm thrown over Theo so my hand rests on Jackson’s stomach, and can’t remember a time I was this happy, a time where everything was so securely in its place. 

When I wake up again, the boys are already up and talking quietly. I open my eyes and see Theo sitting on Jackson’s stomach, giggling about something. 

“You have dark boobies,” he says, pointing a finger to each of Jackson’s nipples. “See mine?” He lifts his shirt and I shake my head slightly. “They’re light.” 

“I have darker skin than you,” Jackson says. “Explains it.” 

“Because my skin is mixed with Mommy’s white and your brown,” Theo says. “So, I’m half and half!” 

“Well, technically, you’re one-fourth,” Jackson says. “‘Cause wanna know something? My dad was white, just like Mommy. So, I’m half and half, a lot like you.” 

“Whoa!” Theo says. “That’s something we have the same. Just like our hair.” 

“You’re right,” Jackson says. “What else is the same about us?”

“I have freckles,” Theo says. “But Mama does, too. So, I’m pretty sure I got that from her and not you. And I have my mommy’s smile, that’s what everybody says. Even strangers at the store.” 

“You know what you got of mine, though?” Jackson asks.

“What?” 

“My eyes,” he says. “And I want them back. Can I have them back?” 

“No!” Theo giggles. “They’re mine!” 

“I want them back!” Jackson growls playfully, and tickles Theo’s little waist. “You better hand them over, little mister.” 

I choose that moment to make my wakefulness known, laughing along with them. 

“Oops, sorry,” Jackson says. “Did we wake you up?” 

I shake my head. “Nah,” I say. “I was just listening.” 

“Mommy’s awake!” Theo says, and dismounts Jackson to fold himself against my chest. He nestles his face into my neck and wraps one arm tight around my waist, and I give him a big hug. 

“Morning, sweet sunshine,” I say. “What do you think you’re doing, finding your way into our bed in the middle of the night?” 

Our bed. I realize that I called it ‘our bed’ instead of just mine. I’m not sure if either of them pick up on it, though. 

“I had a bad dream,” he says. “Then I came in here and saw Daddy and thought he was naked, but you had your cloud shirt on so it was okay. Then Daddy had pants on, so it was extra okay. Because it’s okay for boys not to wear shirts, but not girls.”

I giggle and run my hand over his curls. “A bad dream, huh?” I say. 

“And also I wanted to lay with you and Daddy,” he says, giggling. “I forgotted about what the bad dream even was.” 

Jackson catches my eye over Theo’s head, and I reach over to cup his cheek. He takes my hand and kisses my palm slowly, then sets it on his face. 

“Mommy,” Theo says. “When me and Daddy had hot chocolate, he told me ‘I love you.’”

Because Theo’s face is hidden cozy in my neck, I look at Jackson when I answer. “Oh, yeah?” I say. “And what did you think of that?” 

He pauses for a moment to think. “That I love him back,” he says. “Because you said I could, a long time ago. Remember?” 

“I do remember.” 

“Do you love him, too, mama?” he asks. 

I haven’t broken eye contact with Jackson yet. A small smile forms on my face when I say, “Yes, I do. Very much.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**JACKSON**

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, PRESENT_ **

“What’s my favorite color?”

April is lying under me, red hair fanned out around her head, shirtless. The lights are dimly lit in her bedroom, and we’re playing a game. We’re asking each other questions, and for every one we get right, the other person gets a kiss.

She giggles while I think, eyes gleaming as she looks at me.

“Blue,” I say, after a while.

“No!” she sings, smacking my shoulder. “It’s pink. It’s always been pink.”

“You never wear pink,” I say, nearing my face to hers.

“Ah-ah,” she says, turning her cheek and blocking me with one hand. “You got it wrong. No kiss. Your turn.”

I sit back on my knees and she watches me, using her hands as a pillow behind her head. We’ve already had sex once tonight, fucked actually. It was hot, quick and dirty. The duvet had to be stripped and thrown in the washer because it got that messy.

She put a pair of pajama pants on after, but no shirt. And thank god for that. I’m using this time to stare at her chest - the creamy white skin, tight, puckered nipples, and prominent angle of her collarbones are getting me hard all over again.

“My favorite food,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “Any food is your favorite food. Get real.”

“Correct,” I say, and plant my hands on either side of her head. “Gimme a kiss. A big one.”

She holds my neck and closes her eyes, puckering her lips as I get closer. I don’t break away for a long time, using one hand to skim across her breast and rub her nipple with my thumb.

“Hey,” she says. “Cheater.”

“There aren’t any rules against a little nipple play,” I say, smirking.

“You’re so-”

Interrupting her sentence, a voice cries out through the silence of the house.

“Mama…”

April’s forehead crinkles, eyes darting to the door before centering back on me. “He might just be dreaming,” she says. “Hold on.”

We spend a silent moment, unmoving, waiting for another sound. Hearing nothing, I bend to kiss her again and she’s just wrapping her legs around my waist when Theo’s voice rings through the hall a second time.

“Mama… mama!”

“I better go see what’s up,” she says, pushing on my shoulders so she can get up. She stands, and I watch the muscles of her back move subtly under her skin as she reaches for a gray crew-neck sweatshirts of mine.

“You keep stealing my sweatshirts, I’m not gonna have any left,” I say, from where I lie on the bed.

“Shush,” she says, taking a step towards the door before noticing that Theo has already appeared there, rubbing his eyes and squinting against the light. “Baby,” April says, tone softening as she approaches our son. “What’re you doing up? It’s late, honey.”

He stretches his arms out for her, and she kneels to hug him. “Bad dream,” he murmurs, pushing his face into her neck.

“You sure it was a bad dream, baby?” she asks.

Lately, Theo’s new trick is feigning nightmares when he gets up to pee and sees our light on. He senses excitement happening without him, so he wants to join in. The first couple nights, we fell for it. Now, his plot is weakening.

“What was it about?”

“Too scary,” he says.

“Okay,” April replies, and I can hear it in her voice that she’s not going for it. “Well, let’s get you back to bed.”

“But… but… can I sleep in here with you and Daddy?”

He peers over her shoulder to look at me when he says it.

“No, not tonight, sweetie,” April says, picking him up.

“I won’t hog the bed,” Theo says. “Promise. I’m scared of a subway train monster under my bed, mommy. Please, can I sleep with you?”

“No, baby,” she says, walking out of the room. “I’ll lay with you ‘til you fall asleep, but you know there’s no such thing as a subway train monster.”

I lie in bed and wait for a while, and when April comes back, she’s laughing and shaking her head.

“That boy will pull any string to get in here with us,” she says.

“You’re so mean,” I say, nudging her with my shoulder. “Such a mean mom, not protecting him from the subway train monster.”

“You can shut up any time now,” she says, shoving my arm. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“Let’s take him to a movie tomorrow, after school,” I say. “He’d love Justice League. We were talking about it the other day on the way home.”

“You’re gonna spoil our child,” she says, taking my sweatshirt off after getting up to turn off the overhead light.

“And?” I say, pulling her close and relishing the feeling of her soft, bare skin. “He’s a good kid. He deserves it.”

“Sure, softie,” she says, snuggling close. “But you’re payin’. Movies are expensive, that’s why we never go.”

After school the next day, Theo is bouncing with excitement.

“I haven’t went to see a movie in ten thousand years!” he says, swinging my arm as we get off the train at Fullerton. “Right, mommy?”

“Ten thousand years sounds about right,” April says. “I can’t remember the last one we saw. Maybe Minions, or something. I don’t know, it a long time ago.”

“And we’re gonna go to the big theater with the hugest seats ever!” Theo says. “Daddy, we’re in Lincoln Park. This is where rich people live who always wear new clothes. But Mama says that new clothes don’t matter, it’s my heart that matters. And that we’re really, really rich but just not in money. Right, mama?”

April can’t help her smile. “Right, babe.”

We walk down Fullerton and take a left on Sheffield, then walk to Webster which is the street that the theater is on. It’s a cold and sunny day, so I keep my sunglasses on. But even though I’m wearing sunglasses and a hat, I hear my name being thrown in whispers as we pass groups of people.

“April,” I say, sternly under my breath.

“I know,” she says.

“What?” Theo asks, looking between either of us. “Why did you say Mommy’s name, daddy?”

“Nothing, little man,” I say, and squeeze his hand. “Everything’s fine.”

We make it to the theater, and as we cross the parking lot, I notice a small group of people hanging out by the front doors. I can feel their eyes on me, then I hear a voice.

“Oh my god, that’s Jackson Avery!”

April stops dead in her tracks, which causes Theo to do the same.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’ll just take a few pictures, sign a few things, it’ll be okay. This happens sometimes.” I plaster on my fake smile for the fans. “Hey, guys.”

“Oh my gosh, is this your girlfriend? And your son? Hi, Theo! Hi! Oh my gosh, you’re so cute! He’s so cute.”

“Thank you,” I say, and notice how close April is keeping him. I don’t blame her - she’s doing the right thing. He has his face hidden in her shirt, peeking out periodically due to his curiosity.

I take a handful of selfies and sign a few notebook pages and phone cases, then wave April and Theo along to go inside. But before we can get through the doors, two cars pull up and a throng of paparazzi gets out, flashes going off immediately.

“Jackson, headed to the movies?” one says.

Flash.

Theo whimpers, plastering himself closer to April. She holds the back of his head and reaches for my hand - I grip her fingers tightly, telling her without words that I can handle this. I can handle this for all of us.

“What movie are you going to see?”

Flash.

“Is this the infamous baby mama? April, over here! Can you give us a smile?”

Flash.

My stomach sinks when he says her name, like it’s tainted somehow.

“Little Theo! Can you look at the camera, buddy? Smile for the camera! Big smile, just like your daddy!”

Flash. Flash.

“Jackson,” April says, urgently tugging on my arm. “Please, can we go?”

“I’m trying,” I mutter, finding we’ve been trapped by the fans and paparazzi in a tight circle.

I hear people muttering words I can’t quite catch. I get the gist of what’s being said, but hope I’m hearing wrong.

I wrap a tight arm around April’s waist, ready to bolster our way through the crowd, when a photographer shouts what I’d been afraid I was hearing.

“Jackson! Don’t you think you could do better than her? Your fans seem to think so!”

What happens next occurs in slow motion, and my body acts out of my control. I spin, unlocking my arm from April’s body, and encounter the shouting photographer face-to-face. Before I can be stopped, I’m winding my arm back, fist clenched, and it happens too quickly for him to dodge the punch. My knuckles collide with his nose, and suddenly there’s blood spewing everywhere, people are shrieking, Theo is crying, and April is pulling me away from the commotion with strength I didn’t know she possessed.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

“I’m gonna sue! Bet your ass I’m gonna sue, Avery!”

Flash. Flash.

We get into a car, and the silence is deafening. It reminds me of the first time I rode with April and Theo heading away from the hospital. Once again, Theo is on her lap, arms wrapped around her neck. But this time, he’s crying softly. April is wearing an expression I can’t read, maybe a mix of concern, fear and being fed up.

“Your hand,” she says, taking one arm away from Theo to lift my wrist.

I wince. It hurts. It’s bruised and bloody, but I’m not sure if the blood is mine.

“Weiss Memorial, please,” April says to the taxi driver, and he speeds off.

**APRIL**

“Mama, you say violence is never, never, never, ever the answer,” Theo says, later that night as I sit on the edge of his bed.

Jackson is in the living room, on the phone with his people in Seattle. I don’t know what they’re saying, and I’m not sure I want to hear the conversation. His manager, his publicist, all those people can get loud on the phone, and it makes me anxious to even be in the same room while they’re talking. I can’t imagine they’re all too happy with him right now, so Theo’s bedtime routine came at a very opportune time.

“I do say that,” I say. “You’re right. And it’s still true. Daddy made a mistake today.”

I can’t find it within myself to be too angry with Jackson, though. I’m upset Theo saw him do that, because Jackson isn’t a violent person. I don’t want Theo to assume as much because of what he saw. It should have been handled differently, but he felt cornered. It was instinct. Protective instinct - he was protecting his family.

“He hitted,” Theo says, wide eyes blinking into mine.

“He did,” I say. “And it was wrong. You should never hurt others.”

“All those people were scaring me,” Theo says. “Too many people. And all the cameras. It was really, really scary, mama. So maybe it was okay that Daddy hitted? Just this one time?”

I smooth his hair back, sighing as I contemplate my answer. “It was a bad situation,” I say. “It’s hard to think of a good answer. I’m not sure if there is one. Sometimes, there’s just no right answer. Can you live with that for tonight, baby?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah,” he says.

“But just because Daddy hit, doesn’t make it okay,” I say. “You know that, right?”

“I know, mama.”

“That’s my good boy,” I say, leaning to kiss his forehead.

“Will you lay with me and tickle my back?” he asks.

I can’t help but oblige. Theo flips over onto his stomach and I lie on my side next to him, slipping my hand under his pajama shirt to drag my fingernails over his soft, warm skin until he falls asleep.

Once he does, I kiss the side of his head and slink out of his room after turning out the light. I head to the living room, where I hear the tail end of Jackson’s conversation coming to a close.

“Yeah. Yeah, I heard you. I know that. Thanks. No, I know what you mean. I get it, it’s for the best. Sure. Yeah. See you in a while. Send me an email of the… yeah, those. Thanks. See ya.”

I sit on the couch next to him as he hangs up the phone and pick up his bad hand to examine it. He watches me with a stoic expression as I turn it this way and that, but I see pain flash across his eyes as I touch it.

I decide it’s okay he feels a little pain. He deserves that, just a bit.

“I understand why,” I say, setting his hand down on my thigh. “But you shouldn’t have done it. Theo was right there.”

He looks at my face for a long time, studying and waiting, it seems. He’s piecing together the right words; I can practically see them flash behind his eyes.

“I couldn’t handle it,” he says, finally. He shakes his head, staring down at his wrapped hand. “I couldn’t handle them saying that shit about you.”

I clear my throat, trying to keep my tone soft, yet firm. “You don’t have to stand up for me that way,” I say. “I can take it. I’m tough. You know that.”

He shakes his head again. “You shouldn’t have to take it,” he says. “You don’t. Not anymore.”

I don’t have anything to say in response. I know he’s right. I know I don’t have to shoulder everything anymore. This is what I used to dream of, having a partner to help me, to stand beside me, to take some of the blows. And now that I have it, I’m not sure how to accept it.

Everything that once seemed easy is much more complicated than I anticipated.

“My hand,” he continues, holding it up for emphasis. “That alone would put me out for a few games. 6 weeks, something like that. But…” he shakes his head. “The footage of me punching that guy’s lights out is everywhere. They suspended me for the season.”

My eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as my mouth gapes open. “Jackson,” I say, worried. “Oh, my god. You… oh, no…”

“It’s fine, Peach,” he says, shrugging. And by his face I can tell he really means what he’s saying. “It honestly couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.”

I tip my head to the side. “What do you mean?” I ask.

He chuckles a bit. “I don’t wanna be playing football right now,” he says. “I wanna be here, with you guys. And now, I can be.”

A smile grows on my face, but while it does, my gut twists.

Jackson won’t be leaving again. He won’t walk out that door with a plane ticket in hand, telling Theo and me that he’ll see us in a few weeks. We won’t have to get used to life again without him here, then fall back into our old, comfortable routine. No, none of that will happen. Now, I’ll wake up every morning with his body next to me in bed, radiating heat. He’ll pick Theo up from school while I’m at work, help with dinner and homework at night. He’ll be a staple in this house, in our lives - one that won’t be at risk of disappearing.

That thought should be comforting. But instead, it terrifies me. And I’m not sure why.

We won’t be playing family anymore. Now, it’ll be the real thing. And I think I’m scared it won’t live up to the high expectation I’ve built it up to be.

“Babe,” Jackson says, tearing me from my thoughts with one hand on my cheek. “We can do this.”

The light in his eyes nearly blinds me, and I can’t help but latch onto his hope. “Yeah?” I say, leaning against his palm.

“Yeah,” he replies, then kisses me.

“You want to be here?” I ask. “With us?”

He makes a funny, incredulous expression. “Of course I do,” he says. “I was already dreading the day I was gonna have to leave.”

“So was I,” I say, and it’s the truth. I wouldn’t even let myself picture it. “We’re gonna do this right, aren’t we?”

“You’re gonna have to teach me a lot about being a full-time parent,” he says, now holding my face in two hands. “But I wanna learn. I wanna do this, you know… be domestic with you. Just fuckin’... _be_ with you guys. I just wanna be here. I love you.”

I laugh, in disbelief of everything. “I love you, too,” I say.

We go to bed a little while later, just lying there snuggling in the dark for a few minutes without saying much of anything. That is, until Jackson pipes up. With his fingers drawing nonsense patterns over the bare skin of my upper arm, he says, “Can I say something and you not get mad?”

“Yes…” I say, narrowing my eyes.

“I wanna live with you,” he says.

I scoff. “Why would I get mad over that?” I say. “I figured you-”

“In a house,” he continues. “A nice, big house.”

“Oh...” I say, letting my eyes roam around the room. I push my hand under his shirt to rest on his bare stomach and contemplate the gravity of what he’s suggested. “Oh.”

“I know you love this place,” he says. “But I want more for you. For us. More space, a nicer neighborhood, a better school for Theo.”

There’s nothing wrong with what he’s saying. Nothing at all, actually. But this apartment - this is all I’ve ever known living in Chicago. This has been our home for almost seven years. This place is where I raised Theo, the safe space we could come home to and be happy, no matter how hard the day preceding was.

Theo took his first steps here, said his first word. He came home to this apartment after his first day of school. We’ve cried and laughed and done everything in between under this roof, on these creaky hardwood floors.

But I know there’s always a time to move on. And the perfect opportunity is being presented to me on a golden platter, by the most beautiful, well-meaning man. A man with the best intentions, who I’m so in love with that it’s silly.

“Yes,” I say.

“Yes?” he echoes. “Seriously?”

I giggle softly. “Yes, seriously,” I say.

“Damn,” he says. “I could’ve sworn we were gonna have a fight about that.”

“I’m not stubborn as hell _all_ the time,” I say. “When there’s reason to be seen, I see it.”

“Only stubborn as hell _most_ of the time,” he mutters, and I tickle him so he laughs like a little kid.

After a long pause, he catches his breath and we sit in silence. I stare at the ceiling - its familiar cracks and ridges, and nestle my head further against his chest.

“We’re moving,” I say. I’m not sure how I feel saying it loud for the first time. “No more Uptown.”

I feel and hear him smile without seeing it. “No more Uptown,” he says.

**_UPTOWN, CHICAGO, CHRISTMAS DAY_ **

“It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas, it’s Christmas!”

I wake up to a little body pouncing on me before the sun comes up. I open my eyes and see Theo’s face so close to mine that the tips of our noses brush.

“Santa came, mama!”

I raise my eyebrows, stretching my arms above my head. “Merry Christmas, honey,” I say, voice still raspy. “Wake up your dad.”

Theo jumps off of me and lands on Jackson, which makes him make a guttural ‘oof’ sound as he’s forcefully woken up.

“It’s Christmas! Wake up, daddy! Wake up!”

“I’m up,” Jackson groans, rubbing his eyes. “I’m up. What time is it?”

“Time to get up, I think,” I say, resting against the headboard.

“Happy birthday, Jesus!” Theo cheers. “Jesus was borned last night at midnight, and the wise men saw the star! Right, mommy? They saw the star, it was super, super bright. And Mary had Jesus come out of her tummy in a manger with hay and animals. Right now, Jesus is just a tiny baby! And we get presents on his birthday.”

Jackson chuckles and shakes his head, closing his eyes as he tries to hide his smile.

“It’s not funny, daddy,” Theo says. “No one even had room for Mary and Joseph to stay. That’s why they had to born Jesus with all the animals.”

“You’re right, baby,” I say. “Daddy’s not laughing at you.”

“I’m not,” Jackson says. “Promise. Who wants to go and see what Santa left?”

I put the kettle on, making water for Theo’s hot chocolate as I turn on the coffee maker for Jackson and myself. Once everyone has their hot drinks, we gather in the living room, where Santa has made a light trip this year.

“You told me Santa said he didn’t have that much for me this year,” Theo says, bouncing on his knees by the tree. “But in Sunday school I knowed how to be grateful for every single little thing. Because some kids don’t even have Christmas, that’s why. And so anything I get, I’m gonna be happy. That’s called being a good sportsmanship.”

We give Theo his presents first - I told Jackson not to go crazy, but that he could spoil him a little bit, seeing as it’s their first Christmas together. So from his dad, Theo gets a new bike, a science experiment set, and a backpack. From me, he gets a few new outfits and a special notebook that he’s had his eye on for a while.

After he’s opened all his presents, he gives Jackson and me each a big hug and a kiss. “Thank you, mommy,” he says, squeezing hard. “Thank you, daddy!”

“You deserve it all,” I say. “You were on top of the nice list this year.”

“And Santa checked it twice,” Jackson says, winking.

“Should we give our present to Daddy now?” I ask Theo, a glint in my eye. He knows what surprise we have up our sleeves, and he’s been bursting to set it free.

“I’ll go get it!” Theo says, and scampers off to the closet where I’ve hidden it in a secure place. When he comes back, he’s holding a painstakingly-wrapped manila folder in his hands, trembling with excitement. “This is for you, daddy. From me, and Mommy, too.”

Jackson looks at us, confused at the shape. He rips it open carefully and sees it’s a folder, so he opens it and his face lights up when he sees what’s inside.

“What’s…” he says, unable to finish the thought.

“A certificate of name-change,” I say, smile painfully wide.

“I’m Theodore Jackson Kepner-Avery now!” Theo announces, proud as can be. “Now everybody knows that I’m yours, daddy.”

Jackson stares at the certificate like it’s holy, holding it like it’s something precious that could break. When he sets it down, he does so with grace, and pulls Theo into his arms for a giant hug.

“Thank you, baby,” he says, voice muffled by Theo’s neck. “I love you, I love you so much.” He meets my eyes over Theo’s shoulder and his are glassy with tears. “Thank you,” he says again, kissing his son’s cheek.

When Jackson lets Theo go, he’s still bouncing with excitement. “We have one more!” he practically screeches.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jackson says, after he’s taken a moment to compose himself. “I think it’s my turn.”

“Hold on,” I say, holding up one palm. “I thought we said we weren’t gonna do anything for each other.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Looks like you’ve already cheated in that department.”

“Technically, that was from Theo,” I say, giggling.

“Well, technically…” he begins, trying to think of a comeback. “I don’t know. Just let me go get it.”

He stands up and leaves the room, and I call after him. “Oh, so you hid yours, too?”

“Yes, miss nosy.”

I look at our son with excitement in my eyes as we both wonder what Jackson will return with. I pull on my long sleeve to make sure it covers my wrist, and situate my arms around Theo’s waist as Jackson walks back into the room with a very square box in one hand.

He sits on the floor and hands it over. I take it from him and shake the box, then look at Theo with curious confusion.

“What could it be?” I ask.

“Open it,” Jackson says. “Find out.”

“Alright…” I unwrap the box slowly, driving both Jackson and Theo crazy, then lift the lid. Inside, resting on a plush, velvet cushion, is a silver key.

I screw up my eyebrows. “Is this…?”

“The key to the front door of 2321 North Halsted Street?” he says. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

My mouth drops open and my hands go so weak that I drop the box, which makes the key fall out onto the carpet.

“What?” Theo asks, peering to look at my face. “What, mommy?”

I try and gather my thoughts enough to form a sentence. “You know the pretty house that we would look at sometimes, when we went to Lincoln Park?” I say. He nods. “It went up for sale. And you know how we’re looking to move out of our apartment.” He nods again. “Well, Daddy bought us that pretty house.”

Theo gasps, hands covering his mouth. “And he's gonna live with us there, too?!”

I nod, eyes welling up with tears. “We have a house,” I say, barely able to say the words as I look at Jackson.

He repeats the words. “We have a house.”

I throw myself into his arms, which knocks him backwards onto the floor as he catches me and laughs. He presses his lips to mine in a slew of quick, happy kisses, and wipes away my tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“I love you,” I say, laughing through my tears. “I don’t know how you… I can’t believe… we have a house!”

“We have a house!” Theo cheers, jumping up and down with his arms in the air. “We have a house, we have a house!”

I sit up and Jackson does the same, and I do my best to compose myself.

“We have something else for you, daddy,” Theo says, wearing a smile so big I’m surprised his face doesn’t break in two. My stomach jolts with nerves. We’ve been planning this moment for a couple weeks now, and I desperately want it to go over how I imagined. We’ve been putting all the work in, and it’s finally here.

I never expected Christmas to be so momentous, but this one has turned out to be the most memorable one yet.

“Are you serious?” Jackson says. “You guys have already done so much.”

“But I wanna do more!” Theo says, turning back to look at me. I nod him along, and he digs inside the tree to find the box we hid there yesterday. It’s long and rectangular, and instead of handing it over for Jackson to open, Theo does it himself but so Jackson can see what’s inside.

Lying on a tiny cushion, is Jackson’s ‘forever’ bracelet, polished like new and re-engraved clearer. As Theo opens his mouth to speak, I pull up my long sleeve and expose my new and improved one, too.

“Daddy,” Theo says, a smile in his voice. “Will you marry us?”

The moment seems to freeze around us as Jackson stares at the twin bracelets. Slowly, he takes the box from Theo and holds the delicate bracelet in his hand, and I can’t help but remember the day he gave mine to me, on our one-year anniversary.

I can’t believe how far we’ve come. Our child is sitting between us, and Jackson bought us a house. We’re going to be married. Two high-school sweethearts who thought they’d lost it all at one point, have come back together with a bond stronger than ever.

“Yes,” he says, clipping the bracelet on his wrist. It fits like he never took it off. “Yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

He gathers Theo and I both in his arms and kisses our faces, and we all burst into uncontrollable laughter, our bodies a mess of arms and legs.

“You guys are sneaky!” he says. “How in the world did you get that bracelet?”

“Had it shipped from your place in Seattle,” I say. “Turns out, Gloria and I are great partners.”

He chuckles. “Figures.” He pauses for a moment, eyes swimming, then turns to me as if he’s been struck by something. “You’re gonna be my wife,” he says.

I nod surely, dimples popping with my smile. “I am,” I say, nodding more confidently. “And you’re gonna be my husband.”

“There’s gonna be a wedding!” Theo sings, throwing an arm around either of us. “A wedding!”

“This has been… the craziest Christmas of my life,” Jackson says, shaking his head. “We’re engaged. Holy shit.”

“Daddy, swear jar!” Theo scolds.

“And…” I say, tone lilting. “I have just one more thing.”

Theo turns to me, shocked. We’d planned everything, all the ways to surprise Jackson, together. But there was one thing I kept from him so I could tell them both at once.

“April,” Jackson says. “Seriously. It’s too much! You really didn’t… this is enough. You tell me I go overboard, but here you are-”

I can’t keep it in anymore. “I’m pregnant,” I say.

Both of them are quiet for a beat as my words sink in. Then, Theo jumps up from where he was sitting and covers his mouth in surprise again, staring at me with huge eyes.

“You…” Jackson says, but his voice dies off.

“You have a baby in your belly!?” Theo shrieks. “Just like Mary!?”

I nod, unable to keep my laughter at bay. “Yes, I do,” I say, one hand on my stomach for emphasis. “I found out a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh, my god…” Jackson says, still in shock.

Theo is still dancing around, pumping his arms in the air. Then, suddenly, he stops. “Wait,” he says, looking at me very seriously. “Is the baby’s daddy my daddy, too?”

“Yes, teddy,” I say. “Daddy is the baby’s daddy, too.”

Theo runs through the house screaming, and after he leaves the room I turn to Jackson and climb onto his lap.

“I’m having your baby,” I say, and he winds his arms around the small of my back. “Your second baby.”

His eyes hold so much emotion I can barely take it. I don’t know where to begin, but it becomes clearer when he kisses me. Everything is pulling together at once instead of coming apart. It’s a feeling I still have to get used to.

“You’re pregnant,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re really pregnant?”

I nod and take his hand, moving it to rest over my stomach. Of course, there’s not even a semblance of a bump yet, but that doesn’t matter.

“Your baby’s in there,” I say, giggling as Theo comes rampaging back into the room. “And right there, too.”

I rest my forehead against his and close my eyes, breathing in this moment.

I’ll never be able to go back and rewrite history. Even if I could, I would choose not to; the past is the past and it’ll stay there, where it belongs. It has formed who we are today, and I wouldn’t change a thing. We have the rest of our lives in front of us, and though we’ve lived in separate circles for a very long time, we’re together now. Embarking on a brand new world.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is it! My submission for NaNoWriMo is finally finished, final word count at 71,618!! (the goal was only 50k!) I'm so glad everyone enjoyed this story, because I really had a great time writing it. look for more from me (in the form of one shots...taking a break from another multichapter for a bit) very soon!

**APRIL**

**_THE DRAKE HOTEL, CHICAGO, FEBRUARY_ **

Dressed in white with the comforting weight of my son in my arms, we sway to Beyonce’s cover of ‘At Last’ in the middle of the dance floor. 

We aren’t alone, few other people are dancing, too, but it feels like just the two of us. His arms are looped loosely around my neck, head resting on my shoulder, as I hum the song into his ear. 

Mine and Jackson’s ceremony was beautiful. We hired a photographer, but I won’t need pictures to remember how this night looks. When I walked down the aisle, Theo and Jackson were standing side-by-side, looking like the father and son they are. Theo’s chest was puffed out as he proudly displayed the pillow that held the rings, and Jackson’s lower lip was trembling. 

Catherine, Jackson’s mother, walked me down the aisle. Over the three months since Jackson and I became a couple, the two of us have gotten incredibly close. She gave me away to her son with a kiss on the cheek, and I stood across from him, ready to begin our lives together.

Now, I slow dance with the child who has always tied us. He’s dressed in a tiny four-piece suit, tired out from the long day we’ve had and all the emotions that came with it. 

“Mama,” he says, voice a tiny peep under the long notes of the music. 

I lean my head against his tame curls, the hair that Catherine styled earlier today. We hired a professional for mine - it’s curled into an intricate updo with a jeweled pin on the side, one that Catherine passed down to me from her wedding. The hairstyle leaves my neck long and bare, something that Jackson took advantage of during our first dance to ‘Unforgettable’ by Nat King Cole.

“Yeah, baby?” 

He lifts his head and rests his hands on my bare shoulders, thumbs running over the divots of my collarbones. “You and Daddy gotted a wedding,” he says, a sleepy smile on his lips. 

I lean forward and brush the tip of my nose against his. “You’re right,” I say. “We did. Are you happy?” 

He nods, smile growing. “Really happy,” he says. “And sleepy.”

“I know you are, little man,” I say, closing my eyes as we continue to sway. “It’s been a full day for all of us.” 

“The goodest day,” he says, and his voice sounds like it does right when he’s about to fall asleep. “The bestest day ever.” 

“It was, wasn’t it?” I say, then feel a wide palm skim between my shoulder blades. I look back and see Jackson standing there in his sharp tuxedo, his eyes standing out like crystals. “Hi,” I say, smiling at my brand new husband. 

“May I cut in?” he asks, voice low and smooth. 

I look at Theo, who’s blinking tiredly as he lifts his head again. “Wanna go see Grandma Catherine?” I ask, nodding. 

“Yeah,” he says softly.

I walk to the edge of the dance floor where Catherine is standing, having just gotten up from her seat. She smiles at us as we head her way, extending her arms for Theo as I get closer. 

“Hi, my tired little grandbaby,” she says, easily taking him from me. 

“You don’t mind?” I ask. 

She gives me a look. “Honey,” she says, pushing my shoulder gently. “Go dance with that handsome husband of yours.” 

I give her a smile and float to where Jackson stands, waiting for me. I fold myself against him as he holds the small of my back, gently taking my hand with the other. As my arms loop lazily around his neck, I gaze into his eyes and wonder how we got here. 

“Peach,” he says, resting his forehead against mine. 

I close my eyes as my heart swells with joy. I clasp my fingers together behind his head and feel the cool metal of the ‘forever’ bracelet slip down my wrist just slightly. 

“Baby,” I reply. 

He shakes his head subtly, pulling me closer. 

“Nothing, really,” he says. “I just wanted to say your name.”

I open my eyes and smile at him, our lips only inches apart. “I’m right here,” I say.

“I wouldn’t have you anywhere else,” he says. 

I stroke the back of his head; his hair is closely shaved and much shorter than Theo’s right now, but I like it. “You married me,” I say, still somewhat in disbelief.

He chuckles. “You married  _ me _ .” 

“We’re married,” I say, eyebrows lifting. “I can’t believe we did this.” 

He steals a quiet, slow kiss and says, “I can.” 

As the night fades on, it comes time for Jackson and I to leave for the airport. Our honeymoon destination is Nantucket, Massachusetts - a small, island town where we can disappear for a week and forget about any and all real-life responsibilities.

“I’m gonna miss my baby,” I say, pouting my lower lip as we seek out Catherine to say goodbye to our son. “This is the longest I’ve ever spent without him.” 

We lock eyes and the poignancy of my statement sinks in between the both of us. Jackson has spent much longer without Theo, but he doesn’t need to say so. We’re both on the same level now, not competing for how much we’ve personally missed out on or arguing over the decisions that were made in the past. 

We’re married now; a mature, adult couple. We’re not the football player and cheerleader anymore, at least not on the outside. 

“Are you two heading out?” Catherine asks as we approach her at the head table.

“Yeah,” I say, immediately kneeling to Theo’s level. He’s passed out on his grandma’s lap, facing out with his head lolled to the side. “Teddy,” I say, stroking his cheek. “Wake up, baby, and say bye to Mommy and Daddy.”

Slowly, his green eyes flutter open and light up with recognition when he sees me. “Mama?” 

“Hi, sweet boy,” I say, and sit in the chair next to Catherine so I can take him in my lap. 

“Are you leaving, mama?”

“Yeah,” I say, and he sits sideways with both legs hanging off mine, head on my chest. “We wanted to say bye to you before we left, though.”

“I already miss you,” he says, voice small. 

“I know,” I say. “I already miss you, too. But I promise to send postcards, and bring you back some really special things.” 

He nods, and Jackson comes close to rub his back.

“Where are you takin’ Mama, daddy?” Theo asks, peering up at his father. 

“To an island called Nantucket,” Jackson says, crouching next to our chair. “It’s out east off Massachusetts.” 

“I know that state,” Theo says. “It’s between Connecticut and New Hampshire.”  

“Very good,” Jackson says, kissing his son’s head. “Learn lots while we’re gone so you have stuff to teach us when we get back, okay?” 

Theo nods, tracing the chain of the necklace around my neck. “Will you call me all the time, mommy?” he asks. 

“Of course I will,” I say, rocking him slightly. My eyes burn, threatening tears, as in this moment he feels like my small infant again. The one I rocked to sleep on impossible nights, wondering how far we’d make it. And now, we’re comfortable in a place I never thought we’d reach. 

“I love you, babe,” Jackson says, taking Theo’s hand and kissing it. Theo shoots him a soft smile, then sits up and throws his arms around his father’s neck. 

“No swear jarring, daddy,” he says. “Or else I’ll know. Mommy will tell me.” 

“Oh, she will, will she?” 

He nods. 

“I’ll try and remember,” Jackson says, then kisses his son. “Have a good week with Grandma. You be good.” 

“I will,” Theo says. 

“I love you,” I tell him, cupping his cheeks in my hands. He holds onto my wrists and looks earnestly into my eyes. “I love you, my special little prince.” 

He smiles bashfully, closing his eyes and turning his head as I use that term of endearment. “I love you, too, mama,” he says. “Come back really soon.” 

I fall asleep on both plane rides - the commercial jet and the private plane to the tiny island, and Jackson holds tight to my hand as I do. When we finally arrive, it’s the middle of the night and the whole place seems to be asleep as we check into our hotel. 

“It’s so quiet,” I say, staring out the window with my hands pressed against the cool windowpane. 

“You gotta get used to it, city girl,” Jackson says, coming up behind me. 

I look at him over my shoulder, wearing a smirk. “So do you.” I turn around so I can wind my arms around his middle. “Actually, there are a lot of things you have to get used to. We’re married now, so you have to deal with all the annoying things about me.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he says, teasing me. 

“Yeah,” I say. “Like… how I clean up your plate before you’re done eating. Or when I hog the remote and keep the volume way too low, or force you to go to church on Sundays.” 

“Those things aren’t annoying,” he says, nudging my nose with his. “And the best thing about me is that I don’t do anything annoying.” 

I laugh, loud and brash. “Oh, sure.” 

“It’s true,” he says. “Bet you can’t name one thing.” 

“I can name way more than one,” I say. “But we don’t have all night. How about you leave your dirty boy socks tucked under the covers because you kick them off at night? I think I found about five pairs last laundry day.”

“Fluke,” he says, smirking. 

“You pull my hair when you try and braid it,” I say. 

“Not my fault I can braid better than you,” he says. “And if I remember correctly… there are others times when you’ve  _ asked _ me to pull your hair… very different situations…” 

I swat his arm. “Sometimes you have really bad morning breath,” I say. “And bad eye crust.” 

“Now you’re just being mean.”

“And,” I continue, a devilish smile growing on my lips as my hand slips lower. “ _ This _ pokes me hard in the ass almost every morning,” I say, cupping his bulge in my palm.

“As if you’re complaining,” he says, then holds my neck so he can kiss me. 

He undresses me slowly, unbuttoning my dress from behind - the one I changed into out of my wedding gown - slipping it over my shoulders with his lips on the nape of my neck.

“My wife is so beautiful,” he says, sliding his arms around to my belly, which he holds with flat hands. “So beautiful.” 

I smile as I look down at the floor, ghosting over his hands with my own. I’ve never felt luckier to have him here with his arms wrapped tight around me. 

“We should consummate our marriage,” I say, walking towards the immaculate bed. I sit down in my white bra and underwear, and Jackson kneels to rest between my slightly parted knees. 

“To follow tradition,” he says. “I want to make you feel good first.” 

“Jackson…” I say, smoothing one hand over his head. 

His eyes glint when he looks at me. “I need to go down on my wife,” he says, then licks his lips. “Jesus, that felt amazing to say.” 

While he eats me out, I keep both hands on his head as I stay sitting up straight. I hold onto his ears, tightening my knees on his shoulders, and chew on my lower lip hard.

“You’re so… good,” I moan, fingernails scraping his skin. “Oh, god, baby. Don’t stop… please, please don’t stop…” 

He scoots me closer to the edge of the bed and throws my legs over his shoulders so quickly that my hands fly behind me for support. He pushes his tongue inside me, through the warm wetness, and drags it in slow circles over the spot that makes sparks shoot behind my eyes. 

I throw my head back as my chest heaves with exertion. He grips the outside of my thigh roughly as his tongue continues to work, and I can’t control the sounds coming from my mouth. 

When I come, I pull him closer with all my might. I wrap my legs around his shoulders and yank him forward as my back lifts from the mattress, turning to one side while involuntarily whimpering and groaning. 

“My god,” I pant. “Oh, my god...” 

“Your husband knows how to use his tongue,” Jackson says, licking his lips. 

I practically attack him on the floor, pushing him onto his back to get him out of his pants and button-up shirt. I can barely get his boxer-briefs halfway down his legs before I take his erection in my hand and sink down onto it, bracing my hands on his chest for support. 

His hands fly to my hips, moving them slowly. “Fuck,” he whispers, running a hand roughly up my back. “You’re amazing. Jesus, Peach, you feel amazing.”

We have sex on the bedroom floor, on the bed, against the wall, and lastly, in the shower. It started off quick and dirty and ends slow and sensual, just the way we like it. And as the sun comes up, we’re spent - lying next to each other among very messed up sheets. 

“I love you,” he says, trailing his fingers down the middle of my chest, between my breasts, over the vein he loves. 

I take his hand and kiss his fingertips, not bothering to open my eyes. I know his body so well already, have everything memorized. 

“I love you so much,” I respond, barely able to form words from how tired I am. 

I feel his face edge towards mine, the tip of his nose touching my cheekbone. “We’re married.”

I smile, curling towards him as he wraps me up in his strong body. Just before I fall asleep in the arms of my husband, I repeat, “We’re married.” 

**JACKSON**

_**LINCOLN PARK, CHICAGO, AUGUST** _

“Careful, careful,” I say. 

“I can shut the car door, honey,” April says. “I’m fine.”

“You just had a baby,” I say. “You’re fragile. Let me… can you just let me?” 

She smiles, setting the baby carrier down in the driveway so she can pick our newborn baby girl up out of it. 

“April, are you sure you… we can do that once we get inside…”

“Baby, it’s okay,” she says, reassuringly. “I’ve had an infant before. Okay? You gotta trust me. I know what I’m doing.” 

I take a deep breath and lead the way inside, where Theo and my mother are waiting. Theo met his baby sister briefly at the hospital, but it was a rushed interaction. This is the first time he’ll get to see her up close and actually hold her, which is what he’s been looking forward to for months. 

“I’ll get the door,” I say. 

April smiles at me again, cradling our little girl close. Her name is Tessa Noelle, and she’s beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, this tiny baby that came from us. Theo helped pick out the name Tessa, and her middle name comes from the fact that April told us about her on Christmas. 

April’s pregnancy went well. We didn’t have any scares, and she handled it with grace for almost the whole nine months. I soaked in every moment, being that this was the first time I got to experience my baby while it was still inside her, and did everything I could to document each moment. I talked to the bump every night before bed, took birthing classes with April, and felt the first kick.

Now, it feels like Tessa was always meant to be a part of our family. She is the piece we didn’t know was missing. 

I walk inside first and hold open the front door for April, who comes in carefully. Theo appears from around the corner from the kitchen, in the house that still feels new, with a look of wonder on his face. 

“Is that my sister?” he whispers, hands covering his mouth.

“Yes,” April says, now completely inside. “This is your sister, Tessa Noelle.” 

My mom comes around the corner, too, looking smitten though she can’t even see the baby yet. “You’re home!” she enthuses, waving us to come sit on the couch. “How was the ride?” 

“Terrifying.” 

“Fine.” 

Mom chuckles and we all sit down, Theo right next to April. “Theo,” April says. “Tessa told me that she wants to meet you first.” 

His eyes light up as he tries to keep still, tries to contain his excitement. 

“You have to be gentle, and hold her with strong arms. Can you do that?” she says.

He nods. “I can hold her good, mommy.” 

“Okay,” April says. “I trust you.”

She gently sets Tessa into Theo’s sturdy, waiting arms, and I watch his face as he gazes down at his newborn sister. His eyes graze over her features and he smiles after a few moments have passed, then looks back up at us. 

“She’s so tiny,” he says. “What color eyes does she have? Will she open them so I can see?” 

“She will eventually,” April says. “She’s really tired right now.” 

“Babies sleep a lot,” I tell him. “Especially at first.” 

“Did I sleep a lot?” Theo asks.

April nods. “You slept a lot, and you loved cuddling with me. I think you’re gonna have to show Tessa how awesome cuddling with Mom is.” 

Theo smiles back down at the baby. “I will,” he says.

My mom takes a turn holding the baby, rocking her slightly while asking us a bunch of questions that go in one ear and out the other. Theo is anxious to see his sister again, craning his neck to look at the bundle my mom is holding. 

I keep one arm around the small of April’s back. I know how tired she is, but that smile never fades. 

“I’m gonna be the bestest big brother,” Theo says. “I promise. I’m gonna teach her all about Teddy Roosevelt, and maybe how to skateboard once Daddy teaches me. And I’ll always help her with her homework, especially the math stuff if she doesn’t like it.” 

I lean to kiss his head. “You’re gonna be great, buddy,” I say. 

April wraps her arms around Theo, who’s grown taller in the past near-year since I’ve known him, and buries her face in his curls. “No matter how much attention Tessa needs from us,” she says. “I don’t want you to forget how much I love you. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says. 

“Good,” she says, cheek squished against his head. 

I smile at the two of them, then at my mom holding my newborn daughter, and don’t think I could ask for much more. 

**APRIL**

**_LINCOLN PARK, CHICAGO, THE FOLLOWING SEPTEMBER - ONE YEAR LATER_ **

I brush my hair out of my face as I walk down the sidewalk leading to our house, squinting against the sun as it’s coming down. I’m headed home after a long day of work, from the business I finally own - my chiropractic practice is flourishing in Lakeview, and I’m in a better place career-wise than I’ve ever been. 

I walk up the front steps, seeing lights on inside. I knew they would be - Jackson picked Theo up from school today and stayed home with Tessa since he’s on off-season. 

“I’m home,” I call when I walk through the front door, setting my bag on the bench in the entryway and kicking off my shoes. “Where are my babies?”

“Mama’s home!” Theo says, and I hear the sound of a chair pushing out before Jackson stops him. 

“Wait, wait. Finish this problem, you’re almost done. She’ll come in here in a second.” 

I smile to myself, hearing Jackson’s ‘dad voice.’ I make fun of him for it sometimes, how his tone will change and become firmer when he’s laying down the law. Gently, of course. 

Then, a shriek sounds that can be no one else’s but my Tessa’s.

“I’m coming!” I say, walking through to the kitchen where my family is. Jackson is at the stove cooking something that smells amazing, Theo is sitting at the countertop next to where Tessa is in her highchair, covered in sauce from Spaghettio’s. 

“Hi, mommy,” Theo says, grinning with a pencil in his hand. 

“Hey, baby,” I say, passing and kissing his temple. “Doing good on homework?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “Daddy’s helping.” 

“He’s the best,” I say, then stop by my daughter. “Hi, baby girl! Hi, honey.” 

She smiles her four-toothed smile and tips her head back to look at me. “Mama,” she says, extending her saucy hands. 

“You’re messy,” I say. “Wait ‘til I’m out of work clothes, then I’ll hug on you. But give me a kiss now! Give Mama a kiss.” 

She gives me an open-mouthed, sauce-covered kiss on the lips and I hold her head while she does. And after I pass her, I sidle up to Jackson and wind one arm around his waist from the side, leaning my head against his upper arm. 

“Hi, biggest baby,” I say, eyes gleaming. 

“Hey, Peach,” he says, kissing my forehead. 

“What’s for dinner?” 

“Meatloaf and green beans,” he answers, kissing me again. “Spaghettio’s for baby girl. She was too hungry to wait.” 

“I know the feeling,” I say, looking over at Tessa. 

“It was a little early for her to eat, but I figured it’d be okay,” he says.

“Yeah,” I say, rubbing his back. “She’ll eat later again, anyway. With me.”

He nods; we know the bedtime routine well, we have it down pat by now. “How was your day?” he asks. 

“Good,” I say. “I did a few alignments and a lot of paperwork. How about yours?” 

“Tess and I went on a long walk through museum campus today,” Jackson says. “It was pretty. Not too hot, not too cold.” 

“Sounds perfect,” I say. “Wish I could’ve been there.” 

“Me, too,” Theo says, and when I look back, he’s resting his cheek against his closed fist. 

“How was school?” I ask, breaking from Jackson to lean on the counter, looking right into my son’s clear eyes. 

“Kinda boring,” he says. “But I got 100/100 on a spelling test. And that means I’m gonna be in the second grade spelling bee!” 

“That’s awesome, baby!” I say. “We should practice. I love spelling.” 

“Daddy said I should practice with you and not him, ‘cause he’s bad,” Theo says, giggling. 

“Hey,” Jackson says. “I never said I was bad. I just said Mom’s better. Don’t twist my words, little man, or I’ll come after you.” 

I give Theo a sly wink and head upstairs to change into lounge clothes. When I come back down, we all sit down at the table for a nice dinner together, talking about our days. Our activities were mundane, but we’re all interested in each other’s lives. 

As I sit with my family around the dinner table, I can’t help but picture mine and Theo’s old life for just a moment. Our dining room was small, nearly nonexistent compared to where we’re eating now, and the lighting was usually low. The bulbs were never strong. It would just be the two of us sitting at the table across from one another, trading quiet conversation and listening to subtle music in the background. Though we knew each other by heart and still do, there was always stuff to catch up on at the end of the day. 

Now, the room is warm and bright and filled with sound. Our bellies are full and we’re happy. And this is the way it will stay. 

Later that night, I’m with Tessa in her nursery, rocking in the same chair that Theo used. Though we can afford a new one, there was something special about this one that I couldn’t bear to give up. It holds too many serene memories, and throwing it out would be like losing a patch of who we used to be. 

But now, Theo doesn’t sit with me in this chair anymore. Instead, he’s down the hallway in his big boy room, walls painted green, on his bed with his father reading a book. And instead of Jackson reading to him, he reads to Jackson. A new book every night. I can hear the steady rise and fall of their voices as I settle against the cushions, positioning the baby just right. 

I pull my shirt down and stroke Tessa’s hair, watching her eyes close as she latches to nurse. We don’t have much longer for this routine, but she still doesn’t prefer solid foods over what I can give her. At the end of the day, this is what she wants. Just like Theo, this routine is imperative to her falling asleep. 

“Dear God,” I whisper. “Thank you for this day. Thank you for my beautiful family; please keep us all happy and healthy. Thank you for your unyielding grace and knowledge, showing me the way even when I’m not sure of myself. Thank you for my children and my husband, and this amazing life.” 

I look down at my daughter as her lips move against me, and run my fingers down her back, over her thin onesie. I nudge my nighttime glasses up on my nose and Tessa sighs, adjusting the way she’s lying, reaching to grip the neckline of my shirt just like Theo always did. 

“I hope you know how much I love you,” I say, voice hushed. I smile to myself as her rhythm slows and her fingers loosen. It takes a moment, but eventually her head lolls away and I cover my breast with my shirt again as I gently move her to lie on my chest, head on my shoulder, as we slowly rock back and forth, back and forth. 

I lean my cheek against her head and listen to her breathing deepen, coming in sweet puffs on my neck. I close my eyes and relish her closeness, remembering when Theo was this small, and hold onto this moment. Time goes by so quickly. Before I know it she’ll be just like him - all knees and elbows and scabs from the playground. Not that I don’t love every stage Theo has gone through, but there’s something extra special about a soft little baby depending on you for absolutely everything. 

“I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart,” I sing, soft as ever. “Down in my heart. I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart… down in my heart to stay....” 

There was a time I thought I’d never find that joy. It was unattainable, unreachable, not even realistic to hope for. Everything in life was a battle, and a losing one at that. Nothing ever seemed to go my way. 

But now, things are different. I have a warm home, a beautiful son, a gorgeous daughter, and a loving husband. 

I’ve found that joy, and I didn’t have to go far. 

**_LINCOLN PARK, CHICAGO, THANKSGIVING, ONE YEAR LATER_ **

I’ve never hosted people for Thanksgiving before. Last year, we went to see Catherine, and every year before that, Theo and I would always volunteer. But this year is different. This year, Catherine is coming to our house and we cooked a big holiday dinner that we’ll all enjoy. Still volunteering after we’re done eating, of course. 

“Theo,” I call from the kitchen, wiping my hands on the front of my apron. “Can you come grab the plates to set the table with, please?” 

I hear footsteps come up behind me and turn to see my now nine-year-old son dressed in black pants and a dark green button-up shirt. 

“Don’t you look handsome,” I say. “Dad pick that out?” 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“I’ve never seen that shirt before,” I say. “Is it new?” 

“I think Dad bought it and put it in my closet,” Theo says. 

“Sounds like him,” I say, chuckling, then nod towards the cupboard. “Can you grab five plates? Grandma Catherine should be here any minute. Where’s your sister?”

“Dad’s finding her a dress,” Theo says, picking up the stack of plates. 

“Is he dressed?” I ask, pulling out a ceramic container of mashed potatoes from the oven where they’d been warming. “He always forgets to actually get  _ himself _ dressed.” 

Theo laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “He wanted to know if you were.” 

“Don’t let the apron fool you,” I say, then watch him as he sets the plates out to each spot on the table. Where his face was once soft, it’s turning angular. His hands, instead of being clumsy and chubby, are knobby and bony. His slopes are turning into hard edges, and I miss my little boy. 

I miss the way he used to toddle down the long hallway of our old apartment into my outstretched arms, screaming with laughter at the simplest things. I miss the way he used to fall asleep every night with his head over my heart, and I miss the way he’d sneak into mine and Jackson’s bed. 

Now, that’s up to Tessa. She’s only just figured out how to escape from her crib. 

And though I miss those things about Theo, I love everything about the young boy he’s grown into. The boy who’s at the top of his class in every subject, won the science fair last year, and reads to his sister every night. He’ll always be my teddy bear at his core. 

Thinking all this, I can’t help but overflow with gratitude. I take a few steps forward and wrap my arms around him, and he lets me hold him close.

“I love you, baby,” I say, kissing his head. I stay for an extra long time, and he doesn’t pull away. There will always be something special between us from the hardship we endured together. For more than half a decade, we were each other’s saving graces. The flickering beacon of happiness at the end of a slew of very hard days. And when I look into his eyes now, I can still remember those days. 

But we don’t have to feel that strife anymore. Now, we have each other and much more. 

**JACKSON**

“Alright,” I say, straightening Tessa’s dress on her little body. “Let’s get you downstairs. Grandma should be-” 

Interrupting my sentence, the doorbell rings. 

“I’ll get it!” I hear Theo call out, then hoist our two-year-old onto my hip.

“I spoke too soon,” I say. “Let’s get this party started.” 

She grins, wide and cheesy, clapping as we descend the stairs. Theo takes my mom’s coat and hangs it in the closet, and she’s kissing his face all over when she spots Tessa and me. 

“My baby!” she says, extending her arms out side. “And you, too, of course, Tessa.” 

I roll my eyes and my mom kisses Tessa’s cheeks, which makes the baby giggle. I set her down on the floor and she scampers off, probably to find her brother. 

“How was the drive?” I ask, leading her into the kitchen where we’ll help April put everything on the table. 

“Oh, it was fine,” she says. “But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about how  _ amazing _ this wife of yours looks!” 

April turns around at the mention with a white ceramic dish in her grip, oven mitts on her hands. “Hi, Catherine,” she says, and Mom kisses her cheek. 

“You look gorgeous, dear,” Mom says. “Let me help you. Has my son had you working this kitchen by yourself all day?” 

April laughs, blowing a piece of hair from her eyes. Underneath her apron, she’s wearing a navy blue dress that hugs her perfect body in all the right places, and I already know I’ll rip it off her later. How we’ll do that with my mom staying in the guest room, I’m not sure. But knowing us, we’ll figure out a way. 

“No,” she says. “He was helping, the kids were too. He just took a break to get them dressed.” 

“That better be true, Jackson,” Mom says. “April and I will get the sides on the table. You carve the turkey, and we’ll be ready to eat in no time.” 

I nod and head back into the kitchen, where the turkey is resting in the middle of the island. I hear April and my mom talking vaguely in the other room and the soft sounds of toys from the living room, which means that the kids are out there. And I’m in the middle of it all, surrounded by my favorite sounds - the sounds of my active, lively family. 

Once the turkey is done, Tessa passes through the kitchen. 

“Baby girl,” I say, and she looks up. “Go call for your bubba. Dinner’s ready.” 

She toddles off, still unsteady on her legs, and calls to the living room, “Teo! Time eat!” 

As we all make our way into the dining room, Theo comes in carrying Tessa around the waist while she giggles, so entertained. I put her in a pair of white tights under the navy blue dress - color matching with April - but they’re already starting to sag. Before she sits, I yank them up on her waist as she tries to wriggle away.

I sit at the head of the table with April to my right and my mother to my left. Tessa is next to her mother with Theo across, next to his grandma, and a calm washes over us once everyone sits down. 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” April says, smiling at everyone. I catch her eye and she takes my hand, squeezing softly. 

“Should we go around and say what we’re thankful for?” my mom asks, and everyone agrees. “I’m thankful for the impeachment of that awful man, and the fact that we’ll have a new administration soon. I’m also so, so very thankful to be looking at all of your beautiful faces right now. I can’t think of a thing better.” 

From her, we move on to Theo. “I’m thankful for my family,” he says. “And my friends at school. I’m really thankful for my good grades and my brain, and that we have a safe place to live. I’m also thankful we get to go help people after this.” 

Next is Tessa. April whispers in her ear, then she shouts, “Thankful for Bubba!” 

Theo smiles widely and laughs, looking across the table to his beloved little sister. 

“I’m thankful for everything in my life,” April says, voice cracking. “Everything that’s brought me to this point, everything beyond it, and this moment right here. I’m thankful for you,” she says, looking me in the eye. “And you,” she says to Theo. “And you,” she says, touching Tessa’s chin. “And this little one in here, whoever they might turn out to be.” She rests a hand on her stomach and smoothes it over the growing bump. “I’m thankful for all the lessons God has taught me, and all the opportunities He’s given me. I am so blessed, and I’m thankful for every day. Not just today.” 

As it becomes my turn, I look around at the four people - five, technically, counting the unborn fetus April is carrying - who mean the most. Out of anyone else in the world, my family is the most important. 

My mother, who saw me through my hardest times and gives the best advice. 

Theo, with his bright eyes and magic grin, quick to help anyone who needs it. Who is fiercely protective of his mother and little sister, and always ready to absorb something new. Who is as eager to love as he is to learn, the first child that April and I created. He is the one who made me a father, who presented me with both the pain and beauty of accepting the role as a parent. 

Tessa, with her contagious laugh and pure heart, who could snuggle up to me on the coldest day and make it feel like summer. Out of the two, she is the first I held as an infant and her innocence is something I cherish. She taught me the fragility and profound resilience of the beginning of a baby’s life, the primal fear of re-becoming a parent and hoping to do it right. She is joy and light, embodied. 

April, my Peach, the one I’ve loved for what feels like all my life. As long as I live, I’ll never see anyone but her. She is with me through all the moments - through my darkest days and most carefree nights, she’s there. She sings me to sleep when I’m sick, trusts me enough to let me shoulder the burdens of life when she can’t, and has never stopped being my cheerleader. 

She doesn’t wear the uniform anymore, and in no way is she on the sidelines. But we’re in this together, this crazy ride called life, bringing as much joy and partnership to it that we can. 

I’m thankful for all we’ve been through. But most of all, I’m thankful for this. This, right in front of me, the family that I call my own. The eyes of my wife, my children, the eyes I wouldn’t be looking into had I not barged into the hospital room that fateful night and heard Theo call me by the name so normal to other fathers, but so poignant for me. 

There were twists and turns along the way. Things didn’t always work out in the most linear, conventional manner, but they worked out. 

What people don’t tell you is that your children, your spouse, they come with answers. You spend so much time worrying - marriage is hard, parenting is harder, everyone seems to have the worst advice. But as I sit at the table with the people I love most, it doesn’t take much to realize that my children, my wife, have shown me who I really am. 


	12. Outtake 1 - Christmas

As we walk out of the church and into the parking lot, snow falls from the sky and sticks to the shiny asphalt. Jackson’s arm is secure around the small of my back, and the weight of our eleven-month-old daughter, Tybie, is warm on my chest as she sleeps. 

She fell asleep about halfway through Christmas Eve service, and Tessa wasn’t far behind. Theo walks on Jackson’s opposite side, hands tucked in his suit jacket pockets, as he watches the snow come down. 

“Mom,” he says, when we get closer to the car. “Is Santa real?” 

I make quick eye contact with Jackson. Over the past couple months, we’ve been wondering how much longer Theo would believe. I believed until I was 12, but Jackson said that’s freakishly late. He was never allowed to believe in Santa - his mother wanted him to know all the hard-earned presents came from her - so he can’t relate. 

“What do you think?” I ask, instead of feeding him an answer. 

He looks at me, then to his father. He’s growing to look more like Jackson with each passing day as his baby fat wears off and he turns sharper. He’s getting tall, too. The top of his head is close to reaching Jackson’s bicep. He’s already at my shoulder. 

“Halley at school said he’s fake,” he says. “And that you guys put the presents from him under the tree.” 

We get to the car, and Jackson unlocks it from a few feet away. “If that were true, why aren’t they there already?” he asks. “You already saw all the presents from us. You guys were shakin’ the crap out of them the other day.” 

“Yeah, I guess…” Theo says.

“And the hoofprints on the front path? How about those?” Jackson continues. 

I smile warmly to myself at his softness. He desperately wants Theo to keep believing, to keep his childlike innocence for a bit longer.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about those,” Theo says. “That’s true. So, Santa has to be real.” 

“For sure,” Jackson says. 

Theo climbs in the back seat, past the middle row where Jackson and I work on getting the sleeping girls buckled into their car seats. 

“And even if he’s not real, you guys don’t have to tell me,” Theo says. “It’s okay. I don’t even wanna know. Because I want Christmas to keep being fun for my sisters, ‘cause they’re little.”

“Hey,” I say, snapping the clasp between Tybie’s soft legs. “You’re little, too.” 

“Mom…” he says, fighting a smirk. 

“Yes, you are,” I insist. “What do I say?” 

He mumbles something, but I can’t quite make it out. 

“What was that?” I prompt, eyebrows raised. 

He meets my eyes, his warm and twinkling. “That no matter how big I get, I’ll always be your baby.” 

“That’s right, teddy,” I say, then shut the middle door of the van softly as Jackson does the same. There’s not one of us that drives more than the other, but tonight Jackson takes the wheel because of how bone tired I am. I spent the better part of the morning finishing up shopping for the kids, the afternoon cooking, and the evening getting us all ready for church. I feel like I ran a marathon, and this short car ride is my first chance to breathe. 

When we get home, all three kids are awake even as Jackson and I try to keep the girls asleep. Tybie sleepily plays with the necklace resting overtop the turtleneck collar of my dress, tempted to put it in her mouth as I walk us inside. Tessa has her arms wrapped around Jackson’s neck, tights-covered feet hanging down as she always kicks her shoes off in the van. There’s a pile under her car seat that grows by the day.

“Mama,” Tessa says, as Jackson comes in the front door. I’m standing in the kitchen, hanging up the keys. 

“What’s up, baby girl?” I ask. 

“When Santa comin’?” 

“Only after we go to sleep,” Theo pipes up, peeking his head around the corner. “That’s why I’m hurrying to go get my PJs on!” 

Tessa wriggles to be let down. “Me, too!” she shrieks. “Me, too!” 

Jackson and I watch them with warmth in our eyes, and Tybie struggles to be freed from my arms so she can follow. But unfortunately for her, she can’t walk yet. 

“I know,” I say, stroking her growing curls. “Someday. But not tonight. Tonight, you and me are gonna go night-night while Daddy gets your big sibs in their Christmas PJs.” 

Seemingly understanding my words, Tybie starts to cry. Beginning with a dramatic pout, she whimpers and works herself up to a pathetic-sounding wail. 

“Aw, baby,” Jackson says, coming up behind us. “Let her stay up. You can nurse her while I read to the bigs.” 

I look between the crying baby and my husband and decide that he’s come up with the better option. I like the idea of the five of us together on Christmas Eve better, anyway. 

So, after everyone’s settled, we all gather in Theo’s room because he has the biggest bed. The cookies are laid out for Santa along with a glass of milk, a plate of carrots for the reindeer, and a note written in impossible handwriting from Tessa. She’s in a Santa-themed nightgown, Theo is in elf-patterned thermal wear, and Tybie is in a red and white striped long-sleeved onesie. 

Now more than ever, we are picture perfect. 

As Jackson gets comfortable between Theo and Tessa, I sit towards the end of the bed with Tybie in my arms and watch them. She nestles against me, lips latched to my breast as she nurses gently, calmly, lulling herself to sleep with the rhythm of my heart and the rise and fall of her father’s voice. 

“‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring… not even a mouse,” Jackson begins. 

Theo and Tessa are enraptured, and stay that way through the whole story. 

When he closes the back cover as a final note, Tessa is asleep leaning against his shoulder, Theo’s eyelids are heavy, and after I buttoned my shirt back up, Tybie drifted off with her mouth wide open. I can practically feel the serenity wash over the room. 

Holding the baby close to my chest, I lean to kiss Theo’s forehead. “Goodnight, teddy bear,” I say. “Sweet dreams. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Christmas morning,” he murmurs. 

“Yes,” I say, smiling. “I love you.” 

“I love you, mama.” 

I kiss Tessa as Jackson holds her sleeping form, poised outside her room. I whisper that I love her in her ear, hoping she hears it in her dreams, then gently go lay Tybie down in her crib after switching on the mobile. 

After all the kids are down, Jackson and I meet in our room. I let out a long sigh, shoulders deflating, and shoot him a tired smile. 

“Long day?” he asks. 

“The longest,” I reply. 

He takes a few steps closer and winds his arms around the small of my back, pulling me close to press his nose against mine. “But you looked good doing it,” he says. 

I roll my eyes. “Shush.” 

“No bullshit,” he says. “I love watching you be a mom to them. There’s just something about… I don’t know. Just seeing you and knowing those are  _ our _ kids. We made them, Peach. We made those beautiful, unique, fricken awesome kids.” 

“I know,” I whisper. “They all came out of me. Remember?” 

“Even Tessa’s big head.” 

I shudder for effect. “I can still feel that.” 

He runs his hands up my sides, over my shoulders, to cup my face. “You’re gonna love what I got you,” he tells me. 

“Wait, let me guess,” I say. “You got rid of that god awful t-shirt.”

He knows what one I’m talking about. He got it as a gift for his bachelor party, and wears it to do work around the house. 

He raises his eyebrows smugly. “What? No way. You’re dreaming. Plus, it’s worked before, has it not?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“You know what the shirt says,” he says. “Wine me, dine me, 69 me. You can’t say you haven’t come through on that befo-”

“Shut your mouth,” I say, reaching to cover his lips with my palm. “Shut. Your. Mouth. Right now.” 

He smiles widely, then gently moves my hand away so he can kiss me. 

“I’m taking that as you didn’t throw away the shirt,” I say, hands on his chest. 

He shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “It’s way too charming.” 

I roll my eyes, but let him kiss me again. Deeper this time, more passionate as he opens his mouth and slips his tongue past my lips. He swipes it along my bottom row of teeth, then sucks my tongue between his lips. His hand sneaks up my back and hitches up the hem of my shirt, but we’re interrupted by the sound of a little voice. 

“Mama? Daddy?” 

We pull away from each other and look towards the door. Standing there is Tessa, hair askew, eyes bleary, clutching her baby blanket in one fist. 

Jackson and I untangle our limbs and wipe our mouths casually. The kids are used to seeing us kiss and touch each other, and we never act ashamed of it. It’s a normal, routine thing for them to see us be affectionate towards each other, and it’s come to the point where they comment if other parents aren’t. 

“What goin’ on, Tess?” Jackson asks. I can hear the impatience in his voice; he wants to get back to me. 

“Did Santa came yet?” 

I smile and walk over to her. “No, baby,” I say. “You haven’t been asleep long enough.” 

“I think I was sleeping for ten hours.” 

“Not quite,” I say. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed. I promise, by the time you wake up, he’ll have been here.” 

I walk her back to her room, and on the way, Theo calls, “Tess, don’t get up again or Santa won’t come!”

I chuckle to myself and say, “I got it under control, teddy.”  

I leave Tessa’s room after tucking her in and kissing her forehead, then start down the stairs only to hear Jackson’s voice from behind. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, catching up.

“To go play…” I widen my eyes and mouth the word ‘Santa.’ I know neither of the two older kids are deeply asleep yet. 

Jackson nods, knowing our routine, and comes downstairs with me. We share the plate of cookies Theo painstakingly arranged, and I eat two of the carrots Tessa laid out. Jackson wraps the rest in a paper towel and throws them away, even after I insisted he should have at least one. 

We get the gifts from Santa out from the basement closet and lay them under the tree, interspersed with the ones from us. We’ll see Jackson’s mother tomorrow, who’s coming over around lunchtime to spoil the kids rotten, undoubtedly. But we get the morning to ourselves, and I’m really looking forward to it. 

“I can’t believe it’s Ty-Ty’s first Christmas already,” I say, holding a school-made ornament of Theo’s as I stand in front of the tree. “This year flew by.” 

“Every year goes too fast,” Jackson says, sidling closer to hold my shoulders.

“Agreed,” I say. “The one thing I want for Christmas is to make time slow down.” 

“Alright, then let me dig that shirt out of the trash.” 

I laugh loudly, but then cover my mouth and shake my head at him. We both wait in silence, expecting the sound of footsteps or a little voice, but get neither. The kids are finally down for the count. 

“Speaking of gifts,” he says, resting a hand on my stomach. I look down as his thumb strokes the fabric of my shirt, and see the body I’ve grown used to. The body more equipped to my lifestyle as a full-time mother, while at the same time a full-time chiropractor. “Tomorrow. Are we telling my mom?” 

I overlap his hand with mine. “Not yet, I don’t think,” I say. “It’s not even a month yet, it’s too soon. I wanna wait a little longer.” 

“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Your choice. I won’t say a word.” 

“Soon,” I say, a promise in my eyes. “Maybe at six weeks. I want to be sure everything’s okay, that everything’s solid.” 

“Right,” he says, smile growing. “God, I’m excited.” 

“You know we’re crazy, right?” I say, but can’t ignore the flutter in my gut as I think about the prospect of a fourth child with him. My statement is true - we are crazy. By the time this baby is born, Tybie won’t even be two yet. We are certifiably insane. 

But we were meant to be parents to awesome kids. Theo was always enough, but when we had Tessa, we realized how good we were at the whole parenting thing. And after Tybie, who is arguably the easiest baby in existence, the fourth was a happy accident. 

It also so happens I’m extremely fertile. Jackson can throw a sideways glance at me while I’m ovulating and there will be a positive pregnancy test in the trash the next day.

“We are, I know,” he says, then slips a hand beneath my shirt to touch my stomach - skin on skin. “But we’re good at it. So, it’s alright.” 

I turn towards him and hold his face that’s illuminated by the glow of the Christmas lights. I give him a kiss and he reaches to pat my butt, then hold it tight in his grip. 

There’s something magical about Christmas in general, but even more magical in experiencing it with children. And knowing we have three perfect little lives and one more on the way, this Christmas is sure to be the most magical yet.


	13. Outtake #2 - New Year's and The Big Game

**APRIL**

“Mama, another piece of candy? One more?  _ Please _ ?” 

I’m sitting on the couch in the living room, surrounded by our family and friends. It’s New Year’s Eve, and tonight is the one night of the year that the kids have no bedtime. 

Right now, Tessa is at my side, lips already coated with chocolate as she asks for more for the thousandth time tonight. 

“Honey, you’ll never go to sleep if you have more,” I say.

“I never wanna go to sleep!” she cheers, hands in the air.

Jackson walks in the room, charming everyone on his way in. He catches my eye and comes over, then sits next to me.

“What’s the harm?” he asks, rubbing my thigh. “Come on, babe. It’s New Year’s.” 

“Daddy said yes, Daddy said yes!” Tessa sings, and runs off with a huge handful of Lindor truffles. 

“It’ll be your fault when she slips into a sugar coma,” I mutter. 

“Mama! Treats!”

I look over and see Tybie close on Tessa’s heels, opening her palms as Tessa shares with her younger sister. 

“Good lord,” I grumble, and let my head fall to rest on Jackson’s shoulder. 

“Want me to take little man?” he asks. “Take some weight off you?” 

I smile down at baby Tristan, who’s 15 months old now, deeply asleep on my chest. His head is turned to one side, cheek squished against my collarbone, one chubby fist wrapped tight around my necklace. 

“No,” I say. “This one’s mine. He’s the only one not giving me an ulcer.” 

Jackson chuckles. “Speaking of trouble, where’s Big T?”

“Playing with his friends in the basement,” I say. “Just Dance, I think.” 

“I’m gonna go check on them,” Jackson says. “He was talking about the ball drop all day, and it’s five ‘til.” 

“Alright,” I say, and pet the baby’s hair. 

I make small talk with friends from both mine and Jackson’s work, which mostly consists of talking about the kids nonstop. They’re who everyone asks about - no one can believe I’m not even thirty and have four kids. One who’s ten years old, no less. 

It’s hard not to ramble about them, though. Theo is the best reader in his entire elementary school, having claimed that title since second grade. He won the science fair this past fall for an experiment involving plants and what kinds of music they prefer. Tessa just started cheerleading, inspired after seeing old pictures of me, and everyone loves to fawn over that. We got rid of Tybie’s last pacifier, which is a feat in itself, and she just learned how to get dressed by herself. And Tristan - well, it doesn’t matter what Tristan does at this point. He’s the baby, and that’s enough. 

A few minutes after he goes to the basement, Jackson comes up smiling and carrying Theo, who’s sound asleep. 

“Oh, my big baby,” I say, as Jackson walks over. The person next to me vacates the spot on the couch so Jackson can sit, our firstborn limp as a ragdoll on his lap. 

“Passed out on the couch down there,” he says. “His friends all found their moms. The game was going on loop, loud as hell. I’m surprised he could sleep through it.” 

I lean over to kiss Theo’s forehead while keeping a hand on Tristan’s back. “He sleeps through everything,” I say. 

“Should we wake him up for the ball drop?” Jackson asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “If we don’t, we’re in big trouble. Here, leave him with me and go get the girls. It’s almost time.” 

Theo leans heavily against me, and I wrap an arm around his shoulders and jostle him gently.

“Theo, baby,” I say. “It’s almost midnight. You wanna wake up and ring in the new year with us?” 

He makes a soft sound, snuggling against my arm instead of opening his eyes. I laugh and press my nose to the top of his head, then Jackson comes back - Tessa trotting at his side while he carries Tybie like a football under one arm. 

“Here we go!” he bellows, and Theo flinches awake. 

“Did I miss it?” he asks, rubbing his eyes and looking at me. 

“Nope, you’re just in time,” I say. “Look!” 

The countdown begins in our living room, and when the ball drops into the new year, everyone cheers. Miraculously, Tristan doesn’t bat an eye throughout the entire thing. 

A while later, after mostly everyone has left, we’re all gathered saying our goodbyes by the front door.

“You guys have big plans in a few days, don’t you?” Addison asks Tessa as she gets her coat on. She’s the last guest to leave. 

“We’re gonna watch Daddy play football!” she cheers. 

“Daddy play ball,” Tybie says, leaning against Jackson’s leg and looking up at Addison with sleepy eyes. “See Daddy play ball.” 

“You must be so excited,” Addison continues, and looks between Jackson and me. Before she leaves, she comes over and strokes Tristan’s wily curls, then gives me a kiss on the cheek. “If you need any help on that day, don’t hesitate to call. I’d love to lend a hand.”

“Oh, I’ve got it under control,” I say. “If anyone knows how to handle these monsters, it’s me.” 

“And me,” Theo says.

I smile warmly at him and hug his shoulders. “Right. I got this one to help me out, too.”

“I’m not a monster, mommy!” Tessa insists, tugging on my sweater. “I’m not! I’m a girl!” 

“It’s a figure of  _ speech _ ,” Theo says, eyes wide. 

Addison laughs. “Alright, I’ll let you guys get to bed. It’s late!” 

She walks out the door, and Jackson and I corral our kids upstairs. 

“Mama, I’m not even tired,” Tessa says, brushing her teeth as she stands in her Moana nightgown. “I think I’m gonna stay up all night.” 

“Oh, no you’re not,” I say, peeking out from where I’ve walked into Tristan’s nursery. Luckily, he was already in pajamas, so all I have to do is lay him down and turn the mobile on. 

“I won’t wake up Ty-Ty,” Tessa assures me. 

I glance around her, where Tybie is sitting on the toilet, polka-dotted PJ pants around her ankles, head lolled to her chest. I chuckle to myself and walk into the bathroom, ruffling Tessa’s hair as I pass, and lift up Tybie’s chin. 

“You done?” I ask her. 

“Yeah,” she rasps. “I goed potty, mama.” 

“I know you did,” I say. “That’s very good. How about you wipe, and I’ll take you to bed.” 

When her pants are up, I lift her onto my hip and she rests her head on my shoulder, already falling back to sleep. 

“Finishing brushing, sissy,” I say, kissing the top of Tessa’s head. “Then come to bed.” 

I take Tybie into the room she shares with her older sister and lay her down, tucking her in without even being asked for a story. When Tessa skips in, she sees that her little sister is asleep and immediately crawls into bed much quieter. 

“Ty-Ty’s sleepy,” she says. “Mama, where’s my brother?” 

“Theo or Tristan?” I ask, lying down next to her.

“Baby T,” she says, playing with my hair as one arm rests on top of my head. 

“In his crib,” I say, voice growing slurred. “He’s been asleep for a long time. Just like you should be.” 

“But I’m not tired,” she says. “And I have a question. Why is your hair red, but all our hairs is black like Daddy’s?” 

I open my mouth to answer, but find my brain too cloudy to come up with something worthwhile. “Long story, honey,” I mumble. 

“Mama, are you fallin’ asleep?” Tessa asks, peering into my face. “Are you going night-night, mama? In my bed?"

I turn on my side to face her, and feel her soft lips on my forehead, kissing me in the way I kiss her as I wish her goodnight. 

“Sweet dreams, mama,” she whispers. “I take care of you. You’re in my bed.” 

What must be a while later, I feel a soft hand on my shoulder.

“Peach,” I hear, and blink my eyes open slowly. “Peachy, baby, wake up. Let’s go to bed. You’re about to push our kid onto the floor.” 

Jackson comes into view as I blink harder, then I realize where I am. I never left Tessa’s bed, and she’s almost hanging off it from how much room I’m taking up. 

“Okay,” I groan, and stand up as gently as I can. Jackson rearranges our daughter so she’s tucked in with enough room, and flicks off the light between she and Tybie’s beds. 

I brush my teeth and hair, then lie down with my arms strewn above my head. 

“I could sleep for a year,” I mumble, eyelids heavy. 

The mattress pushes down as Jackson crawls in, and he pulls me flush to his side. With his arm under my neck to use as a pillow, I curl into him and wind my foot between his ankles, right where I like it. I rub his bare chest and kiss the skin I can reach, and he gives me a subtle squeeze. 

“Happy New Year, baby mama,” he says, kissing my hairline. 

“Back at you, babe,” I say. “And tomorrow morning, unless there’s a natural disaster, don’t even think about waking me up.” 

…

A couple days later, before I open my eyes, I feel lips on my neck. Knowing it’s Jackson, I pretend to still be asleep just to see what he’ll do. 

It must be early, because there’s no light shining in from the windows and no babies crying for attention. 

From my neck, he travels to my sternum, ghosts his hands over my breasts before pushing the covers down and messing with the drawstring of my shorts. He kisses my thighs slowly, and when he grabs the waistband of my shorts in attempt to pull them down, I choose that moment to make my wakefulness known. 

“Is there a fire?” I ask, jokingly. 

“Hmm?” he says. 

“A fire,” I say. “Is our house on fire?"

“No…” he says. 

“Then why are you waking me up?” 

He laughs, and I can’t help but join in. “Shush,” he says. “I wanted to wake you up with a surprise.” 

He’d tried last night, but I was exhausted and Tristan kept waking up and crying every five minutes. We’re in the process of breaking him from co-sleeping with us, and it hasn’t been easy. 

I spread my knees and Jackson situates a pillow under my hips to prop them up. After removing my shorts, he eats me out with a passion he’s never lost and I let myself get caught up in the way he makes me feel. Admittedly, we don’t have as much sex as we used to. It seems there’s always a little human in our bed, or one who’s crying, or one who’s demanding attention way too early in the morning. So, when we do get a chance, we cherish it. 

After it’s over, I’m lying there spent, chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. My fingers ghost over his nearly-shaved head, and he’s smiling from between my thighs, licking his lips. 

“You’re amazing,” I pant, still pulsing. I glance at the alarm clock, which tells me at least one of our little monsters will be up within minutes. “And if you wanna finish, we better make this fast.” 

He slips inside me, no condom as after Tristan was born I started taking the pill religiously. We’re done with kids now - four is a good number, and if we had any more, we might have to go live on a farm. Even with this house, which is big in itself, in order to fit all of them we had to put Tessa and Tybie in a room together. They don’t mind right now, but in the future we’ll have some figuring out to do.

I moan to the rhythm of Jackson’s thrusts, watching his concentrated face as it’s inches from mine. He kisses my neck with an open mouth, slowing his hips to push deeper, more gracefully, and I wrap my legs around the back of his thighs.

“Come, baby,” I whimper, gritting my teeth as he fills me. The sensation is something I’ve never gotten used to, and I don’t want to. I love that every time still feels like the first time, though we’ve been having sex for more than a decade now - with a break in between, of course. 

“Are you close?” he asks. 

I nod desperately, lifting my hips to match him. I’m anxious to find my orgasm, because we’ve had more than our fair share of kids walking in and interrupting us in the past. Those awkward explanations are far from my favorite activity. 

“Touch me,” I beg, and he tucks his hand between our bodies and rubs insistent circles over my clit until I can’t control myself anymore. With him still working at me, I writhe and lift my back from the mattress, tightening around him as he gets closer and closer. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he says, pumping harder. With one final, powerful thrust, he comes and bucks against me, shooting off hot and steady. 

“I love you,” I whisper, clinging tight to his neck while he softens in my body. I press my face to the crook of his shoulder and leave wet, open-mouthed kisses in my wake.

“Mama!” I hear, right on cue. “Mama, mama, mama, ma!  _ Mama _ !” 

It’s Tristan. 

I lock eyes with my husband, who’s smiling. “Want me to get him?” he asks. 

“No,” I say. “You know what he wants.” 

“Same thing I want,” he says, dropping his lips to my chest and getting handsy.

“Don’t be gross,” I say, but can’t help my grin. I climb out of bed, put on a different pair of pajamas, and cross the hall to the nursery. “Hi, sunshine,” I say, and my baby smiles from where he stands in his crib. “Good morning.” 

I lift him out, change his diaper, and carry him into mine and Jackson’s room. I sit on the bed and set the baby on Jackson’s bare torso, but all he does is make his way back to me and tug gently on the collar of my shirt. 

“Okay,” I say, warning tone. “But we’re gonna be done with this soon. You’re getting too big for Mama, Tristy.” 

I hold him close and he nurses quietly, content with our morning routine. This only happens in the morning and at night now; I’ve been trying my best to break him. But it’s hard, because if I don’t let him nurse, he screams his head off and won’t stop. He’s stubborn, just like his parents. Weaning him has been harder than it was with any of my other kids - Jackson claims it’s because he’s the youngest and I’m softest with him. 

Jackson kisses the back of his son’s head, then me on the mouth. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. 

I smiled tiredly, running my fingers absentmindedly through my baby’s curls. “Stop,” I say. 

“You stop,” he says. “I mean it. You’re beautiful.” 

I roll my eyes. “As I sit here nursing your baby, of course you think I’m beautiful,” I say, eyes twinkling. 

He kisses me again, slower this time. “I think you’re beautiful all the time,” he says. “And you know that. So, be quiet.” 

As he finishes, I flinch with pain as Tristan’s eight teeth dig into my sensitive skin. “Ouch!” I say, and pull him off. I readjust my shirt and hold my breast, which still stings. 

“Did he bite you?” Jackson asks.

“He didn’t mean to,” I say. “But we gotta be done soon. Or else, he’s gonna bite my nipple right off one of these days.”

“And that can’t happen,” Jackson says, playfully scolding our son. 

“Mommy!”

I look towards the door to see Theo and Tybie coming inside, rubbing their eyes. Seeing the baby on the bed, Tybie jumps on and immediately hugs him. 

“My baby!” she says, squishing his cheeks.

“Gentle,” I say, and widen my arms for Theo. “Morning, teddy,” I say. 

“Hi, mama,” he says, and sits next to me. 

“Ty-Ty, where’s Tess?” Jackson asks. 

“Night-night,” Tybie says, still playing with Tristan. 

“Such a lazybones,” Jackson says, and Theo laughs. 

“Well, she better get up soon,” I say. “Because we need to get ready to go to Daddy’s game.” 

“Daddy game!” Tybie gasps. “See Daddy play football.” 

“Are we gonna sit in the box?” Theo asks. 

“Of course,” Jackson says. “Royalty, like always.”

Theo helps Tybie get dressed, Jackson takes Tristan, and I sit on the edge of Tessa’s bed as she’s still dead to the world. Wearing the same Moana nightgown as always, her curls are a mess on the pillow, arms thrown to either side of her body. 

“Wake up, pretty baby,” I say, finger-combing her hair. “It’s time to get ready.”

She stirs, inhaling softly as her eyelashes flutter. “Mama…” she rasps. 

“Hi, honey,” I say, pressing a gentle kiss to her round cheek. “I’m right here. Wanna get up and I’ll help you pick an outfit for today?”

She opens her eyes - sea glass like her siblings’ - and smiles at me. “Carry me?” she asks, extending her arms. 

I pick her up and rest her slight weight on my chest as we go to her closet and pick out clothes. By the time we’re all dressed, everyone is wearing shades of navy blue, orange and white - Jackson’s team’s colors - and we’re ready to go. He left before us so he could be with his team before the game started, so it’s my job to get everyone loaded in the van and to the stadium. 

When we get there, we’re escorted into the box where we always sit. I’m thankful that we’re allowed this privilege, because sitting with four young kids in the bleachers would be too much for me. This way, they’re all contained and I know where they are at all times.

Tessa, of course, attacks the snacks immediately. Tybie stands with her little palms pressed to the glass, watching for her daddy. Theo lingers by where I sit in an armchair, holding Tristan on my lap while he plays with my necklace. 

When the game starts, the box erupts in loud cheers as we all see Jackson come out. 

“Look,” I say excitedly, holding Tristan on my hip as we stand behind the other three kids who are plastered to the glass. “There he is!” 

“Daddy! There Daddy!” Tybie shrieks, banging on the glass and leaving handprints behind. 

“I want him to wave back!” Tessa says, waving both arms around crazily. “Did he sawl us, mommy?”

“I don’t think he can see us,” Theo says. “Only we can see him.”

“But he knows where we are,” I say. “And he might be able to. I’m not sure.” 

While I was pregnant with Tessa, Theo and I had gotten into the habit of coming to Jackson’s games. Back then, it was easier. We sat in the bleachers and cheered for our favorite player, faces painted with Bears colors.

Almost as if reading my mind, Theo pipes up. 

“I’ve been watching Daddy the longest,” he says, taunting Tessa. Tybie looks up and listens, but doesn’t catch her brother’s snideness.

“Nuh-uh,” Tessa says indignantly, crossing her arms and lifting her chin. “Me.” 

“That’s not even possible,” Theo says. “I’m six years older. Daddy knew me before you were even alive.” 

“He knowed me!” Tessa insists, stomping her foot. “Stop being mean!” 

“I’m not being mean,” Theo says. “I’m just telling the truth. Daddy’s known me the longest time. And I’ve seen him play football the most.” 

“He doesn’t like you best!” Tessa insists, fists bunched. 

“Okay, you two,” I say, sternly. “Enough. That’s enough. Theo, stop taunting your sister. You’re not being kind, and you know it. And Tessa, don’t raise your voice. You know better.”

She hurries over and buries her face in my stomach, clinging tight around my waist.

“You’re okay,” I say, using one hand to pat her back. 

“He’s bein’ mean to me,” she mumbles, voice muffled by my shirt.

I raise my eyes and give Theo a pointed look. “Apologize,” I say. 

“But mom,” he says, shoulders slumping. 

“Theo,” I reply. “She’s little. Apologize.” 

“Sorry, sissy,” he says, and I thank him.

A while later after the excitement dies down, I sit in one armchair and Theo sits in the other. He sits alone, and I have both girls and the baby on my lap when it happens. 

The announcer says, “Oh, #12, Jackson Avery, is down for the count!” 

“Daddy?” Theo says, a worried look crossing his face. 

I sit up straighter, although struggling a bit with both Tybie and Tristan heavily asleep. I look back at Jackson’s manager, Carl, who’s made his way inside our box. 

“What happened?” I ask. 

His phone rings just as I speak, and he answers. He talks in low tones for a couple minutes, then hangs up. “Looks like something happened with his knee,” he says. 

It’s always his knee. When Jackson gets hurt, it’s always something with his knee.

“Is it bad?” I ask. 

“They’re pulling him out,” Carl says. “Taking him off on a stretcher.” 

“Oh, god,” I say, nervous energy rising. 

“Mama, what is it?” Theo asks, and Tessa turns to look at my face. 

“Is Daddy hurted?” she asks. 

“I have to go to him,” I say, mostly to myself but a bit to Carl. “We have to… where is he?”

“Locker room,” Carl says. 

“Mom, I can go,” Theo says, standing up with confidence. “Ty-Ty and Tristy are asleep, and it’ll just scare Tessa if Dad’s hurt. I can go see. I can do it, I promise. And I can tell him anything you want me to, and I won’t be scared. I can do it.” 

I look at the face of this little boy, who I’m realizing is no longer my tiny, helpless baby. Instead, he’s a young man who knows when I need help and is ready to take it upon himself to give it. He’s grown up before my eyes. At age 10, he’s already on his way to being a wonderful man. 

“Can I, mom?” he asks, prompting me. 

“Go with Carl,” I say. “Ask Daddy if he’s okay, and if he needs us. If he wants us all there, we’ll make it work. Just make sure he’s comfortable, and don’t forget to tell him how much we love him.” 

He nods surely, taking his task very seriously. 

“Carl, will you take Theo down to see Jackson?” I ask, turning my head. 

“I wanna go!” Tessa insists, standing up from my lap. 

“No, no, honey,” I say, taking her hand and guiding her back. “You need to stay here with Mama and keep me company.” 

“Keep you safe?” she asks, eyes wide. “Like T goes to keep Daddy safe?” 

“Exactly,” I say, smoothing her hair and kissing her forehead. I watch Carl and Theo as they walk out, waving slightly and saying, “Call me when you know.” 

I keep Tessa busy while they’re gone, and make sure my two little ones stay asleep. When I get the call from Carl, he says that Jackson is hurt pretty bad but in good spirits, and wants all of us with him. 

Without help, I tell Tessa to stay right by my side as I hold the two babies in my arms, and we walk through back hallways to the locker room.

“Daddy?” Tessa calls, once we get close. She tips her head to look at me, eyes worried. “Does he hear me, mama?” 

“Just a little bit further, babe,” I say. 

When we get to the locker room, I hear Jackson, Carl and Theo talking in hushed tones, and Tessa runs ahead. 

“Daddy!” she shouts. 

“I hear you, Tess,” he replies, and I can’t help but smile. As we get closer, Tybie wakes up and runs after her sister, but Tristan stays asleep. 

I see Jackson lying on a mobile hospital bed, knee wrapped up and elevated. From what I can see, it’s badly swollen, but he’s wearing his usual smile and has Theo on the bed next to him, curled into his side.

“Hey,” Jackson says, once I come in. 

“What did you do?” I ask, leaning to kiss him before he can answer. When I pull away, Tessa and Tybie climb on the bed with him, too. “Careful of Daddy’s knee,” I tell them. 

“Daddy boo-boo,” Tybie says, and as gentle as she can, she leans to kiss the wrap around Jackson’s leg. 

“Thank you, baby,” he says, ruffling her curls. “That helped.” 

“Daddy got hurted,” Tessa says, holding his cheeks while looking back at me. “Mama can make it better.” 

“Doctor Mommy!” Tybie shrieks, remembering her favorite game we play at home when I’m still in my scrubs from the chiropractor’s. “Mommy fix.” 

“We need a little bit of a different doctor,” I say, but smile at my girls anyway. “But maybe I can help once they put Daddy back together.” I look at him. “What happened?” 

“Popped it out,” he says. 

“Aren’t you in pain?” I ask. “How aren’t you screaming right now?” 

“I’m just that tough,” he says, then winks. “Nah. They gave me something for it. I can’t feel a damn thing.” 

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose while closing my eyes. “You scared me,” I say. 

“Peach,” he says, reaching out to take my hand. “I’m here. You got me. I’m all good.” 

I let out a long breath. “Okay,” I say. 

“Okay?” he asks, eyebrows up. 

“Okay,” I repeat, then bend to kiss him after sitting on the edge of the bed next to Tessa. Just as I do, Tristan opens his eyes and reaches for Jackson, which is something he never does when he first wakes up. I smile to myself, coming to the conclusion that it must be a baby sixth sense. 

“Come here, baby boy,” Jackson says, and holds Tristan close. “Hey, and now I’ll get to be home more.” 

“Daddy stay home!” Tybie cheers, and everyone else joins in, too. 

“We can play princess all day!” Tessa says, and Jackson rolls his eyes playfully. 

“Big T here did a good job, coming to check on me,” he says, tightening his arm around Theo. “He’s gonna beat me out for man of the house pretty soon.” 

Theo grows bashful, fighting a smirk. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s grateful for the recognition. 

“What do you say, you guys?” Jackson asks, and by his tone I can tell he’s going to joke. “Should I go back out there and finish the game?” 

“No!” everyone choruses, including me. Tristan giggles, claps and repeats the word in a shrill voice, too. 

“Alright, alright,” Jackson concedes, pulling his kids closer and taking my hand. “You got me. I’ll stay here.” 

I catch his eye and smile, and he strokes my skin with his thumb. As I lean forward and kiss his stubbly cheek, I say, “Right here.” 


	14. Outtake #3 - Pregnancies

**APRIL - THEO**

People say you find out who your real friends are when you get pregnant. That the fake ones will pare away, and you’ll be left with a core group that will never leave your side.

Standing in front of my mirror, turned to the side with my shirt pulled up, I wonder how much truth that holds for me. I don’t plan on telling anyone about my baby, not even its father. This was all my fault, and I can handle the damage it’ll bring on my own. 

I sigh and skim my hand over my belly, pushing it out just to see what it’ll look like. I can’t imagine myself pregnant; it doesn’t seem real. I know it is, though. The bucket of vomit I keep under my bed and wash out every night proves just how real it is. I’m three months along, but you’d never know. 

Tonight, I’m supposed to go to a house party with Jackson and his teammates, and girls from my squad will be there, too. I’ve already fabricated the lie to my parents, who took long enough to deliberate whether or not it was okay to sleep over at Lexie’s. Luckily, they finally caved and let me go, and judging by the time I should be out the door by now. 

I readjust my shirt and trudge to my closet to change clothes. I’m exhausted, which isn’t new, but I don’t feel like pushing through it tonight. I don’t have an excuse for Jackson, though, who’s been looking forward to this party for a week now. I know he wants me there, I can’t blow him off.

So, I get changed into a pair of jeans and a cardigan, then curl my hair lacklusterly. I put a bit of makeup on, nothing that my parents will notice, but just enough, then go downstairs. 

“I’m leaving for Lexie’s,” I say, slinging my backpack over one shoulder. Given the fact they assume I’ll be gone all night, I get to sleep over at Jackson’s. That’s a plus, at least.

There are noises of approval from the other room, and I leave out the front door. I get in my car and drive to his house, where we’ll carpool together. 

“Hey,” he says, coming down the stairs while I walk in. “What’s up?” 

I shrug and toss my backpack down. I don’t like being moody towards him, but lately it’s been happening more often than not. He’s the closest person, and my favorite to blame. It  _ is _ his child inside me, making me feel like this. 

“Nothing,” I say. 

“Alright,” he says, coming closer. 

I don’t look up and make eye contact, though; instead, I lean against the wall and stare at the floor with my arms crossed. 

“Peach,” he says. “What’s going on?” 

“I said nothing,” I snap, widening my eyes. 

“Okay then,” he says, backing off. He starts to put his shoes on and kneels to tie them, then I speak again.

“I just don’t wanna go to this stupid party,” I say. 

The foul mood didn’t exactly come from nowhere, but I had no idea it was going to rear its ugly head like this. Jackson is surprised, too, looking up with a bewildered expression on his face. 

“Uh, well I already told them we’d be there in five,” he says. 

“I know,” I spit back. “I’m gonna go. I’m just telling you that I don’t want to.” 

“You can stay here, if you want,” he says. “You don’t have to go. I put new sheets on the bed today, you could just go upstairs and rest. It’s cool if you don’t wanna be there.” 

“I’m not gonna stay here alone,” I say. “That’s weird.” 

“It’s not weird,” he says. “I don’t want you to have a bad time.” 

“I’ll be fine,” I say, turning my head sharply. “Let’s just get it over with.”

“Peach, if you’re gonna be like this…” 

“Be like what?” I snap, hair flying as I look at him. “I told you, I’m going. So, let’s just go.” 

He raises his eyebrows and sighs in defeat, then puts on his coat. He knows it’s probably not worth it to continue the conversation, and he’d be right. 

We get in the car and sit with icy silence between us. He’s not angry, but I still am while vehemently pretending I’m not. We pull up to the house with all the lights on, and I haul my body out of the car and suddenly feel like I weigh a thousand pounds. I don’t plan on taking my coat off once we get inside, because I’m sure everyone will stare at me. 

“Coming?” he says, extending a hand.

I take it and walk alongside him, saying nothing. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, unlacing our fingers so he can wind an arm around the small of my back. I let him. 

“I’m fine, Jackson,” I say. 

We go inside and the music is obtrusively loud. I flinch because of it, but the first thing Jackson does is bob his head and high-five a few of his teammates standing near the door. 

“J-Man!” they shout, and I raise my lip in disgust at how drunk they already are. “You need a beer!” 

Jackson smiles at them, and it’s still on his face as he looks to me. “Babe?” he says. “You want a drink?”

“No,” I say. 

“Oh,” he says. “Nah, guys. I don’t need one.” 

“It’s fine,” I say, eyes wide. “Just have it. I know you want one. You don’t have to worry about me.”

I push my hair out of my face and know I’m being insufferable, but I can’t stop. I’m so angry at everything with no control over my mood, and I have a feeling it’ll only get worse. 

“April,” he says.

“Go have a drink!” I say, nearly commanding him. “You’re the one who wanted to be here, so go have fun. I’m going to sit down.” 

My feet are tired, like they always are. I just want to find the couch and relax, maybe put in headphones to drown out all this noise.

“I’m not gonna go have fun without you,” he says, matching my tone. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong!” I say, and contradicting my statement, the tears start flowing. “Just go have fun, Jackson, go!”

“No,” he says. “Peach, come on. Let’s just leave.” 

“No,” I say, wiping my eyes. “You wanted to be here, so stay. I can go. I’ll go home.” 

“No way,” he says, then gently takes my wrist. “Come on, let’s go back to the house. We can just go to bed. This seems lame, anyway. They have PBR and they’re not even playing good music. Come on, Peachy. Let’s leave. I want to leave.” 

I sniffle and sob loudly, leaning against his side while he leads us out of the buzzing house. Once we’re in the sanctity of the car, he takes my hand across the console and strokes my skin; he’s always such a calm presence. 

“Talk to me,” he says. 

“It’s nothing,” I say. “Can we just go home?” 

We drive back to his house and I change into the pajamas I brought as soon as we get there. While he gets ready for bed, I lie down and feel sufficiently guilty that I played the emotional girlfriend card and made us leave a party he’d been excited for. I know better than to believe he actually wanted to come home. He did that for me, and he shouldn’t have. 

When he climbs in, I sigh and freeze when he touches me. I don’t deserve it. 

“You should go back,” I say. “You wanted to be there tonight. I’m fine here. You should go have fun.” 

“No,” he says, then kisses my shoulder. 

“Why?” 

“Then, I’d miss out on being with you, here in my comfy bed,” he says. “This beats any party.” 

“Stop,” I say. “You don’t mean that. I was grouchy and evil to you. It’s fine to be mad at me.” 

“I just want you to talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” I say. 

“Don’t lie,” he says.

“I’m not,” I say. 

He scoffs and holds me close, kissing my shoulder again with his eyes on me. I don’t look back, though. I stay staring at the ceiling while wearing a frown.

“If you keep looking like that, your face will get stuck,” he says. 

I roll my eyes and snort, then try to make the frown fade.

“What is it?” he presses. 

He doesn’t know the beginning, and he won’t. I take a deep breath, buying time for a lie, and say, “It’s just PMS. I’m sorry for being a witch.” 

“Oh,” he says, then rubs a hand over my stomach. I turn on my side so he’ll stop. “You’re a good witch, at least.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. No matter what, to him, I can do no wrong. He deserves better. 

…

Three months later, I’m crying harder than I’ve ever cried. I’ve never felt this alone. It’s June, the days are hot, and Jackson is at the pool with our friends. He invited me, but of course I had to turn him down. My belly is bigger now, and hard to hide. Impossible to cover in a swimsuit, so there’s no way I could go. 

So, instead, I’m sitting alone in my room and crying. I can barely catch my breath with my body folded in half, and I’ve never been more confused or scared. I don’t know where my life is supposed to go from here, or how I can make it on my own.

I throw my head back and stifle the sobs, closing my eyes tight while spreading my fingers out on my belly.

“What are we gonna do?” I ask, stroking the skin. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be a mother, I’m still a kid. I don’t know. I don’t know.” 

Then, like a response to my plea, something moves in my gut. A flutter at first, then stronger, like the pulsing of wings. My eyebrows furrow together with concern, in fear at first, before I realize what it must be. 

The baby is kicking. I’m 24 weeks along, and due to the research I’ve done online, it’s the perfect time to start.

I start crying again after a few seconds of silence, sputtering in disbelief. My baby is inside me, living and thriving. I’m hosting a life, 

“Hi,” I whisper, looking down at my little bump. “Hi, in there… I’m your mom. And I love you.”

My phone chimes a moment later, lit up with a text from Jackson. I glance at the screen and more tears flow as I read it with one hand over the baby he has no idea about. 

_ Peach. Miss u. Love u.  _

**JACKSON - TESSA**

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go get Big T from school?” I ask April, who’s bending with difficulty to grab her purse from the floor. Before she strains something, I hurry to grab it for her. 

“I’m fine,” she says, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. “It’s not far.” 

“Peach,” I say.

“Jackson,” she says back, in the same tone. “I’m six months along, not nine. I’m not gonna go into labor picking up our son from school. It’s okay, alright?” 

I frown a bit. “It’s so hot, though,” I say. “You know how you get when it’s hot.” 

“Luckily, the car has air conditioning,” she says, cheerily. 

“Let me come with you,” I say. 

“Jackson Avery,” she says. “If I don’t go out and do one thing alone today, I’m going to scream. You know I love you; I love you with everything I have. But you are in my hair, and I need space.” 

I sigh. She’s right. There was a doctor’s appointment this morning; one where we found out we’re having a little girl, and since then, I haven’t given April much room. I bought a book the other day about the ins and outs of pregnancy, and the chapters focusing on what can go wrong have been haunting me since reading it. 

“Okay,” I say. “Just hurry back, okay?” 

“I will not hurry back,” she says, laughing over her shoulder.

After she leaves, I sit in the quiet living room and close my eyes to stew. I never got to experience April pregnant with Theo, so this baby has been extremely new and special. The concept of pregnancy is insane; the fact that there’s a human inside April, growing within her body, is wild. I can’t wrap my head around it. 

She’s the one doing all the hard work. All I did was come inside her, and now it’s all on her. It’s the least I can do to worry, to tend to her every beck and call. 

It’s different for her, though. She’s gone through this before. It was a while ago, sure, but it’s not brand new and foreign this time. She’s had a baby before, carried our beautiful son for nine months. God, she’s a masterpiece. She’s carrying my second child. How crazy is that? 

When April and Theo return, their voices fill the house immediately. 

“Where’s Dad?” Theo asks. 

“Not sure,” April answers.

“Living room,” I call.

“Daddy!” Theo sings, and I hear footsteps before he shows up around the corner and throws his little body on me. 

“Hey, bud,” I say. “How was your day?” 

“Good,” he says. “On the way home, me and Mommy stopped and got ice cream.” 

“Teddy!” April says, waddling in the path our son had just taken.

“Oops,” Theo says. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, I don’t think.” 

“I’m jealous,” I say, pretend-scowling at her. 

“But I’m in a much better mood now,” she says, smiling guiltily. 

“Yeah…” I say. “You’re still on my list.” 

…

Later that night, after Theo is tucked into bed, April and I are in the master bathroom. With a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, she’s digging around in the cleaning closet until she comes out holding a bottle of Windex that she proceeds to spray onto the mirror.

“Babe,” I say. “Really, right now?” 

“It’s dirty,” she says, spitting toothpaste. “You get flecks of spit on it.” 

“You do,” I say, joking with her as she continues to spritz. “And anyway, should you really be breathing that stuff in? I don’t think so.”

“Jackson, I’m cleaning,” she says, leaning over the counter so her belly rests on it. 

“I got it,” I say, taking the bottle and paper towel from her. “Go lay down. I’ll finish.” 

“I had it under control,” she says.

“It’s fine,” I say. “Baby bump’s in the way, anyway.” 

She shoots me a scowl, but complies. I finish cleaning the mirror and shut off the lights, then join her in bed. 

I climb in and prepare to spoon her with one arm wrapped around the baby, but she flips over before I can and kisses me.

“Oh,” I say. “Hello.” 

She smirks against my lips and holds the side of my face, then opens her mouth against mine. We haven’t made out like this in a while, she’s been tired lately, so there’s no way I’m turning it down. 

One of her hands slips down my torso to my groin, and she cups my growing bulge confidently and strokes me with her lips on my neck. Her breathing grows heavier along with mine, but before she can finish me off, she throws one leg over my hips and straddles my waist. 

I look up at all her pregnant glory, absolutely floored by how magnificent she is. She’s creating life as we speak. 

“Baby,” she says, then strips her shirt. I stare at her full, round breasts, and she yanks my wrists upwards so I’ll get handsy with her. “I’m horny.”

She reaches behind her and continues to stroke me, then tries to pull my boxers down. But even as the feeling of her hand on my dick clouds my mind, I can’t imagine having sex with this baby in the way. April’s fragile, delicate - what if something went wrong? 

“Let me eat you out,” I say, attempting to adjust her body. 

“No,” she says, planting her knees firmly. “I want you inside me.” 

I try to divert the subject without coming out and saying it. “I wanna go down on you,” I say, dragging my fingernails over the swell of her stomach. “Come on, baby, let me. You love it when I give you head.” 

“Not tonight,” she says, adamant. “I want  _ this _ tonight.” 

I sigh and lick my lower lip, eyes centered on her stomach. 

“Jackson,” she sighs. “Seriously? Is this why we haven’t slept together since I started showing?” 

“I…” I try and think of something, but no words come. “Yeah,” I admit.

“The baby will be fine,” she says. “We just have to make some adjustments. You’re not gonna hurt her.”

I clear my throat. “But I’m…” I clear it again. 

“What, big?” she says, then giggles. “Baby, don’t get cocky. It doesn’t work like that.” She dismounts and lies on her side, faced away with one hand pulled back towards me. “See, just like this. It won’t hurt me, or the baby. I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable, okay? But right now, I just really want you.” 

It’s nearly impossible to resist her, so I don’t try any longer. We can make this work. 

**APRIL - TYBIE**

“Yeah,” I say, one hand over the dramatic swell of my stomach. “I swear, it just keeps happening. We always wanted a big family, but we never expected it’d be so easy.” 

Addison nods and laughs, sitting across from me at a cafe. Jackson is looking at the display case full of treats with the kids - Theo is nine, and Tessa two. 

“It seems like every time I see you, this baby gets bigger,” Addie says, leaning forward. “Can I?” 

“Go ahead,” I say, reclining. “Don’t worry about asking. I’m used to it by now.”

She smiles and skims a palm over my shirt, which is stretched tight over my bump. It’s early December, and the baby could come any day. Every moment is one I’m waiting for my water to break.

“Hi, in there,” she says. “You ready to come out and meet everyone?”

“We’re sure ready for you,” I say. 

“What are you naming her?” Addison asks. 

“Tybie,” I say.

“That’s so interesting,” she says. “Where did you think of that?” 

I shrug. “Baby name book,” I say. “You know, we have the ‘T’ theme going on. And it’s unique, not crazy, but… you know. We liked it.”

“It’s adorable,” she says, then looks at my belly to say, “You’re already adorable!” 

“Mama! Mama!” Tessa shouts, halfway across the store. She holds up a cookie bigger than her head and waves it around. “Dada got!” 

“Wow,” I say, nodding. “Why don’t you bring that to Mama, and we can split it.” 

She considers it for a moment, looking between me and the cookie, before shaking her head with a toothy grin. “Mine,” she says, and takes a big bite. 

“I’ll share with you, mommy,” Theo says, coming up behind me. He sits on the arm of my chair and breaks his cookie in half, handing the bigger one to me. 

“Thanks, teddy,” I say, smiling at him.

Jackson walks over with Tessa on his hip, who’s gnawing at the cookie like it’s the last thing she’ll ever eat. “Hey, baby mama,” he says, and sits down in a third chair with our toddler on his lap. 

“Hey,” I say, then let out a long breath. The baby is sitting on my lungs today. 

Before long, Tessa finishes her cookie and wriggles to be let down from Jackson’s lap. She eyes Theo’s unfinished dessert and makes a beeline for him, grappling for it with sticky fingers. 

“Mine, mine!” she says, and Theo holds it just out of her reach. 

“No!” he says. “You already had yours. This is mine.” 

“Mine!” she shouts, which is one of her favorite words. “Mine, Bubba!”

“Stop!” he whines, twisting in the opposite direction. 

Then, he gets up to run away and she chases after him on her unsteady legs. It doesn’t take long before she has a fall, and although it’s minor, she erupts in loud wails after she hits the ground. 

“Oh, baby,” I say, and push myself up from the armrests to get her. 

“I got it,” Jackson says, extending one hand. “Sit, Peach. I got her.” 

“Mama!” Tessa cries, still on the floor. “Mama!”

“It’s fine, honey,” I say, supporting my lower back as I stand. Addison was right, I do get bigger every day. I walk over to Tessa and do my best to kneel and get her back to her feet, and she throws her arms around my neck. “I got you,” I say, rubbing her back. “Come on, come sit down.” 

Somehow, I get her on my hip and we go back to my chair and sit together. 

“Mama big belly,” Tessa says, bending in half to rest on top of it. I can’t help but laugh. 

“You’re right,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Mama has a very big belly. And your little sister’s gonna come out of it very soon.” 

J **ACKSON - TRISTAN**

“Honey, be honest,” I hear, coming from the bathroom. “Don’t pull any of the ‘you’re beautiful and glowing and carrying my baby’ bullshit. Just lay it out.” April steps out of the bathroom and into my field of vision. “Do I look like a fat cow in this?” 

I open my mouth to negate what she’s said, but she speaks again before I can get a word out. 

“I’m not going,” she says, throwing her hands up.

“Baby…” I say, getting up to follow her. 

“No!” There’s a ruckus as I go into the bathroom, then she exclaims, “I can’t even get it unzipped!” 

“April, stop,” I say, finding her and placing my hands on her shoulders. “You look… you’re gorgeous. You know no one looks better pregnant than you do.”

I turn her to look in the mirror and showcase how beautiful she is. She’s wearing a deep purple dress that shows off her full breasts and curvy figure, and most of all, her round stomach. It’s late June, and our son is due in September.

“I can’t remember the last time I went to one of these not pregnant,” she says, then sniffles. “They’re all judging us. They don’t think we know what contraception is.” 

“We know…” he says. “We’re just-”

“Don’t make jokes!” she snaps, and I shut my mouth. I’ve learned by now. “All those women talk about me behind my back. They’re awful, Jackson. I can’t go.” 

She’s talking about the gala Theo’s school puts on every year that we always attend. It’s a fun event, a nice night, and we always enjoy ourselves. 

“You weren’t pregnant last year,” I say. 

“I was nursing,” she peeps. “I was nursing Tybie.”

“And your boobs looked great,” I say, hugging her above the bump. “They still do.” 

“He’s a happy accident,” she says, now crying. “A happy one. I don’t…” She breaks to hiccup-sob. “I don’t regret our son. But I just feel so fat, and like these mothers don’t think I can do anything besides get knocked up and hold babies on my hip-”

“Hey,” I say, frowning. “You have more strength in your pinky finger than they have in their whole bodies. You do more in a day than I could do in a year, Peach, and you know that. Don’t get down on yourself, you’re amazing.” 

She wipes her nose and blinks at me, eyes wet and glistening. “Where are the kids,” she mutters, meekly. “It’s quiet, and Leyla isn’t here yet.” 

Leyla is our go-to babysitter, the kids love her. But April’s right, it is eerily quiet downstairs. We’d put a movie on for them while we got ready, but the complete silence is unusual. 

“I’ll be fine,” she says, dabbing at her face. “Let’s just go check on them and leave. If I stay here one more second, I’m gonna change my mind.” 

She leads the way down the stairs and I carefully watch her from behind, guiding her without actually touching her. If I touched her, I might get my head ripped off. 

“Jackson, I swear,” she says. “If they got into something. If Tybie opened the flour and it’s all over the kitchen floor again, I’m going to lose it. Or, if I see Tessa pulling out Theo’s hair-” 

She stops talking due to the sight in front of us. With the movie playing quietly in the background, the three kids are on the couch, having fallen asleep sitting up. Theo is in the middle with his sisters flanking him - Tybie’s head on his lap with Tessa’s on his shoulder. Their mouths are open in the exact same way - like April says I sleep - all breathing deeply.

“Oh,” she says, and starts to cry for a much different reason than before. “Oh, Jackson. Look at them.” 

I hug her from the side and kiss her temple firmly. “They’re ours,” I say. “We made that.” 

**APRIL - TALULAH**

“Jackson,” I say, propped up by pillows that he surrounds me with. “Call the doctor.” 

“Why?” he says, looking at me and our brand new baby girl with alarm. “Is she okay?”

“Not that doctor,” I say, closing my eyes. “I love our family. You know I do, and I love you. And I love this precious little baby… but you, mister, are getting snipped.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, somewhat shocked. “Peach-” 

“No, no,” I say, gently. I look up at him before my eyes go back to our little girl, our tiny Talulah. “You can ‘Peach’ me all you want. But you didn’t just push a human out of your body for the fifth time. Jackson, I’m in love with all of you, but I can’t do this again.” 

“Peachy.” 

“Jackson,” I say, eyebrows up. “We’ve tried condoms. We tried birth control. It just doesn’t work. We always say it - you look at me wrong while I’m ovulating and another T-baby is on the way. I  _ can’t _ do it again, and I need you to hear me.” 

We look at each other for a long time, and he finally nods. “I know,” he says. “Okay. I’ll set up an appointment.” 

“Thank you,” I say, then nuzzle the baby’s forehead. “Now, come over here and look at what we made.” 

He scoots next to us on the bed and holds my shoulders, using his free hand to stroke our newborn’s cheek. 

“She looks like Tessa,” he says. “All the hair.” 

“And the big head,” I say lightly, then kiss his cheek while gazing at him warmly. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, baby mama,” he says, returning the kiss. “And I’ll always be amazed by you.” 

We share a quiet moment with our new baby, simply soaking in her presence and wondering what she’ll add to our big family. I’m close to falling asleep when I hear the front door come open, and Catherine’s voice along with our four other kids. 

“Now, be quiet,” she says. “Mama is probably resting with Daddy and the baby.” 

“Baby Talulah!” Tybie cheers, and I smile softly. 

“They’re here,” I say. 

“Inside voices,” Catherine says. “Go on in. See if they’re awake.” 

I open my eyes and see my biggest baby’s face first - Theo, who’s almost 12. I have no idea how he got that old, or where all the years went, but he’s almost a young man. He takes after Jackson in so many ways I can barely keep track. 

“Hi, mom,” he says. 

“Hi, guys,” I whisper, so not to wake the sleeping bundle in my arms. “Come meet your baby sister.” 

Slowly, just like their grandma told them, they all come closer. They’re hesitant, though, especially Tybie and Tristan who don’t have as much experience with new babies. 

“Come on,” I say, nodding them along. “Get up on the bed, she wants to see you.” 

Smiling at my playful tone, they all clamber up at once and surround me and Jackson. Theo sits on his knees near my feet, Tessa gravitates towards her daddy, Tybie rests her head on my shoulder, and Tristan sits sucking his thumb leaning against my side.

I look to the father of my children, beaming. We have more than we ever bargained for, but any less wouldn’t feel right. We have everything we need, right here. 

But five is definitely enough. 


End file.
